


Twilight of the Angels

by MindNoise



Series: Castrati [2]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-04 08:41:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MindNoise/pseuds/MindNoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Send Me An Angel.<br/>Tommy, Adam, and end of the castrati era.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Can’t Let You Go

**Author's Note:**

> Twilight of the Angels refers to the end of the castrati age. I got this title from one of the books I've been using for research. I thought it apt since I'd like to follow Adam and Tommy through the end of this era.  
> I hope you enjoy! And many MANY thanks to those of you who adored Send Me An Angel as much as I did.
> 
> *work of fiction*

_It’s not as bad as it seems. It only burns when I breathe. Nothing kills more than to know, that this is the end of the road, and I know I’ve got to let go._

Tommy puts down the pen, staring at the words he’s just written. Words that express what it was like for him when Adam left the conservatory with Verdi those years ago. It’s been four years, and sometimes it seems longer, sometimes not so long ago to Tommy. Either way, it’s a memory, one that still hurts. Particularly on nights like this one.

He looks at the clock, and sighs in self-pity and anger. It’s past midnight. Adam’s still out schmoozing with his high society patrons, while Tommy’s back at their apartment alone, again. It’s not really Adam’s fault, but Tommy likes to think it is. He hates the snobs, but they fund Adam’s career and subsequently his. He writes the music, Adam sings it, the rich adore Adam and sweep him off to fancy parties. Parties where Adam is put on a pedestal. Parties that can get sordid. Parties that can run into the wee hours of the morning. Tommy has no use for that particular lifestyle. He’s a homebody, if anything. He likes going out occasionally, but he’d much rather be curled up on the sofa with Adam, just the two of them. Adam, however, enjoys dressing up, socializing, drinking, flirting. He calls it their insurance. Insurance that these people will continue handing over their money, and sending them to lavish cities to do what they love. At times Tommy sees it as being bought and sold, but he doesn’t say this to Adam. They’ve had enough arguments over Adam’s late nights when he stumbles in reeking of alcohol, smoke, and sometimes perfume, and he remembers what Adam confided back in the conservatory - that he’d gone along with it all before and slept with men and women just to keep the game going, to keep the invitations flowing. It didn’t bother Tommy as much then as it does now. In fact, it bothers him a great deal now.

Being away from the shelter of conservatory was a shock at first for Tommy. Exciting, scary, but a shock just the same. The world outside of Durante’s conservatory was big and loud and unapologetic. He and Adam hit the opera circuit running, and it’s been a great ride. A whirlwind of applause and praise, roses and champagne and gifts falling at their feet. So many gifts that they have no room for them all. They’ve traveled Europe, and people recognize them on sight now. It was fun at first, but now Tommy finds it tiring. Adam, though, is still enamored with it. Tommy can’t blame him, it’s what he was trained for, and he’s proud as hell of Adam. He’s said to be as brilliant as Farinelli, if not more so. And Tommy is still in awe of him. He always will be. But the music eventually fades, and Tommy sees more and more insincerity in the praises and adulation of the society for which they play. It almost makes him physically ill, especially since Adam is still catering to it, sometimes wearing a smile just as false as theirs. Tommy can only stand so much of it during these parties, and he usually begs off early. The crowd of vultures dismiss him easily; it’s Adam they want. Adam hardly ever leaves early, even if Tommy pleads with him to leave, too. Some nights Tommy just doesn’t have the energy to endure another one of these galas and hear Adam tell him no, go home without him, he’ll be along shortly, and knowing Adam really won’t be home for hours. So Tommy goes back to their apartment alone, and he waits. He usually writes something, music, a letter to Durante or Isaac, but mostly he waits. Like he’s doing tonight.

He reads back over his lyrics, feeling them echo in his heart. The two weeks he’d been separated from Adam had been horribly bleak, pretending he was okay, but wilting and dying inside, knowing that Adam traveled farther away from him with every breath he exhaled. At that time Tommy had been certain he’d never see Adam again, and trying to let go of their relationship was crushing beyond belief. If it hadn’t been for Durante, he probably would’ve died from his broken heart. Every now and then he can feel a whisper of that old agony of loss when Adam’s late coming home or flirting too heavily on stage or laughing too loudly at these never-ending parties. Like Adam walking away from him again is just around the corner. Those are the moments when Tommy feels desperate for Adam to be near him, to cling to him at these events lest anything come between them, but he controls himself. Above all he doesn’t want to embarrass Adam or himself.

He sighs heavily, glancing at the clock. Two in the morning. Disappointed, he puts away his pen and paper, deciding to go to bed. He doesn’t feel like staying up, although he probably won’t fall asleep until Adam comes in. He turns down the oil lamp on the desk, and walks to the bedroom, noting the silence of the place. It’s always too quiet when Adam’s not there, like a presence is missing. And a presence is missing. He stokes the embers in the fireplace across from the bed, and as he turns down the bed covers, Tommy reasons that sometimes he’s too hard on Adam. The memory of losing Adam before, memory of himself being attacked on the street scare him and he reacts with anger toward Adam. These are things he doesn’t care to go through again. Nor does he want Adam to be in danger since he’s out so late. Besides, Tommy just misses his castrato when he’s not around.

His castrato. Tommy smiles at that. Yeah, Adam is his.

He crawls in between the cold sheets, his muscles let go and relax into the bed. He’s asleep before he knows it, waking with a start when he hears the front door close. The embers have burned out and it’s dark. Briefly, he panics that whoever came in might not be Adam, but he recognizes the shadow moving through the room.

“What time is it?” Tommy asks with sleep lingering in his voice.

“Did I wake you, amore?” Adam’s voice floats to him through the dark.

“You know you did,” Tommy replies with a smile that he knows Adam can hear. “You always do.”

“Mi dispiace,” Adam says. Tommy can hear him removing his clothes.

“No, no apologies,” Tommy scolds him jokingly, turning on his side away from Adam. “I don’t believe you.”

Tommy feels a breeze of cool air hit his back as the covers lift and Adam climbs in. He slides up to Tommy, pressing his body against Tommy’s warm back. To Tommy’s surprise and inner delight, Adam doesn’t smell of alcohol tonight.

“Lady Madera spent the entire evening telling the most god-awful boring tales about her purebred dogs,” Adam whines. “She went on and on and on. She’s an inexhaustible source of dog tales. It’s absurd.”

Tommy snorts. “Serves you right. You should’ve left when I did.”

“I know,” Adam chuckles. “I don’t know why I want to be wealthy. Apparently it makes you dull.”

Tommy reaches a hand up and lovingly entwines it in Adam’s hair.

“I don’t care about being rich,” he says quietly.

Adam kisses the back of his neck. “I know, baby. I still want us to be comfortable. I want us to have things, go places, and not lack for anything.”

“We already have what we need,” Tommy points out.

Adam hums, and Tommy can sense he’s already near sleep. He knows that everything Adam does, he does for them. But Tommy doesn’t necessarily want all of it. He’ll never stand in the way of Adam’s dream, though, whatever Adam does for it.

No matter what, he reassures himself, he always comes home to me.

 

Tommy’s eyes open slowly and wince at the sunlight coming through the windows. He rolls over to find he’s alone in bed. He sits up, listening, but doesn’t hear Adam anywhere in the house. He rubs sleep from his eyes, and gets up, stopping in the bedroom doorway. He sees Adam sitting at the desk, reading Tommy’s sheet music. He loves catching Adam in moments like this, when Adam doesn’t know anyone is watching and every expression is natural and soft. The light streaming in behind him surrounds him in a halo. He looks like the angel his kind is hailed to be. He’s so lovely that it takes Tommy’s breath away no matter how long they’ve been together. He hopes that feeling never goes away.  
Adam lays the sheet on the table almost reverently, and folds his hands under his chin in thought. He looks as sad as Tommy felt writing the lyrics.

“Buongiorno, beautiful,” Adam greets, and Tommy wonders how Adam knew he was there. He turns to Tommy, his face lighting up with a smile. “I will always sense you, amore.”

Adam motions to him, and Tommy crosses the room and sits in his lap, pulling his feet up and wrapping his arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve taken a peek at your latest piece,” Adam says.

“You’re not sorry. You never are,” Tommy teases. “You go out of your way sometimes to read what I’m working on. And then I get an insincere apology.”

Adam chuckles. “Okay,” he admits. “I do seek out what you’re doing, and no, I’m not sorry.”

“Well let’s hear it, signore,” Tommy says with an exasperated sigh. “What’s the verdict on this one?”

Adam’s smile falls, the memory seeps into his eyes, and Tommy feels it in his heart.

“It’s lovely and painful,” he says. “And I’m sorry that you even have that experience to draw from.”

“It’s yours, too,” Tommy says.

Adam nods, holding Tommy tightly. The atmosphere is too heavy for so early in the day, and Tommy kisses Adam loudly on the cheek.

“We need to get a tree,” he says, changing the subject.

“A tree?” Adam replies blankly.

“To decorate,” Tommy says. “Ornaments, lights, presents. Christmas.”

“Oh right,” Adam realizes. “How could I forget?”

“What are you getting me?” Tommy inquires. He knows Adam would sew his own mouth shut before he’d ever tell, but it doesn’t stop Tommy from joyfully badgering him every year.

“Get what?” Adam asks.

“For me,” Tommy replies.

“What am I getting you for what?” Adam asks with a gleam in his eye.

“For Christmas!” Tommy cries.

“Am I supposed to get you something?” Adam asks with mock surprise. “Nobody told me that.”

Tommy tweaks Adam’s nipple, and Adam shrieks and laughs, tickling Tommy’s sides. He pats Tommy on the hip.

“I guess we should get dressed and go find you a tree,” Adam says, getting up and placing Tommy’s feet on the floor.

“We got a letter from your parents,” Tommy tells him. “Did you see it on the table?”

Adam turns and walks away.

“They’re doing well,” Tommy calls after him as Adam disappears into the bedroom. Tommy follows him and stands in the doorway. “They asked what we’re doing for Christmas.”

Adam dresses, not responding, as though Tommy hasn’t spoken.

“I think they want us to come by there maybe,” Tommy says, trying to sound casual and upbeat. Adam’s reaction is confusing him. “If you want.”

“I think I’d like cannelloni tonight,” Adam states. “With beef or spinach or something. What do you think?”

Tommy frowns. “Cannelloni?”

“For dinner,” Adam explains. “And red wine. We should go out tonight, just you and me.”

“Okay, sure,” Tommy says slowly.

“Are you getting dressed?” Adam asks, brushing past him.

“Yeah,” Tommy answers. “I’ll just be a minute.”

Adam’s reaction to his parents is strange. Tommy wonders if he still harbors ill feelings about what they had done to him. Adam’s never mentioned it, though. Come to think of it, Adam never mentions his family at all.


	2. Ring of Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to Send Me An Angel (you should start with that one first, if you haven't read it already)  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/875122

_The taste of love is sweet when hearts like ours meet. I fell for you like a child, then the fire went wild._

  
Adam watches the blond on top of him, moving in a rhythmic, natural sway. His head tilts back, that perfect mouth open slightly and forming a sensual little O, blond fringe falling over his closed eyes. Adam loves watching Tommy ride him, feeling him, moving under him, watching this tiny body come apart on his cock. It makes him thrust up into Tommy hard, just to see that delicate face furrow in deeper lust. Adam groans, and Tommy moves faster, panting, his slender fingers gripping Adam’s arms so hard it’s almost painful.

Tommy was sitting by their recently decorated Christmas tree when Adam came home. Adam smiled at how childlike he looked, sitting on the floor so close to the tree that he was practically under it, gazing up at the colorful glass ornaments. When Tommy looked at him with a smile so bright it would shame the sun, Adam’s heart swelled so greatly it hurt, and he wanted Tommy right then, right next to the tree.

Adam had never meant to fall in love. He took great pains throughout his younger years to ensure it never had a chance to happen. He hadn’t wanted it. Maestro Verdi assured him that love would mean the end of his career, his goals, his life. So he’d grown up with a loathing for affection and love was simply out of the question. He hardened himself, adopted an indifferent attitude. He used people as they used him. It was purely physical for him, a release, nothing more. He stood fast to his belief that love in any form, even friendship was a waste of time and a pure distraction until his conservatory had caught fire, and he was moved into another. Verdi assured him they would be at Maestro Durante’s conservatory a year at most, then Adam would be touring the opera houses as a professional singer. And then he saw Tommy across the room, yawning in a most uncouth manner at his welcoming party, and when he returned Adam’s look of disdain, Adam suddenly realized with sinking fear that the joke was on him. He had no control over this thing called love. It would overtake him whether he wanted it or not, and it would come in the form of a small, pixie-ish blond boy who was feisty, stubborn, and passionate for him. Which scared the hell out of him.

He slides his hands up Tommy’s back, curving them around his shoulders, forcing his moves to be shorter and quicker. He pulls Tommy down to him. He’s about to come and Adam wants him as close as possible. Tommy lays on Adam’s chest, his hips moving furiously, his cock grinding into Adam’s stomach. Tommy lets out a keening wail, his body going rigid, and Adam can feel hot liquid pool on his stomach. He sucks Tommy’s tongue into his mouth and snaps his hips up into Tommy’s warm, wet, open ass. Tommy’s small whimpers in his mouth go straight to his cock and he comes.

Tommy sits up and gives Adam a lazy smile. His hair is damp and sticking to his face. He lengthens his body, stretching like a cat and sighs. Adam can’t get over how lovely he is, what an amazing person he’s become. He’s afraid of how much he loves him. He hopes he never hurts Tommy. It would kill him if he did.

Tommy slides off of Adam, collapsing next to him on the floor. Adam turns on his side and nudges Tommy’s ear with his nose. Tommy giggles. He gets up and retrieves a towel to wipe them both off. After he cleans up Tommy’s stomach, he tosses the towel to the side, and lays down again next to him.

“So what else do you want to do today?” Adam asks.

“Doesn’t matter now,” Tommy laughs. “It’s all downhill from here.”

Adam reaches over and brushes the damp hair from Tommy’s forehead. He’s always intrigued at how delicate Tommy appears, though he’s anything but.

“Actually, I’m meeting Isaac at that new café by the canal,” Tommy says.

“He’s in town?” Adam asks.

“For a couple of nights,” Tommy says. “I wanted to see him, just catch up.”

“Absolutely,” Adam agrees.

“You wanna come?” Tommy asks, sitting up.

Adam sighs. “I have to work on that aria. It’s just not right yet.”

“Such a perfectionist,” Tommy murmurs, getting up, throwing Adam a smile. “By the way, you got a letter today. It’s on the table.”

“From who?” Adam asks, praying it’s not from his parents again.

“I don’t know,” Tommy replies, walking into the bedroom.

Adam gets up and goes to the table. He pushes aside papers, pens, wax sticks, and books. Tommy’s messy sometimes. He finally finds the envelope. He doesn’t recognize the seal or the handwriting. He pries it open, pulling out the linen paper. It’s a single sheet. He can feel the color drain from his face. He searches the outside of the envelope again, but there’s no return address, no indication from where it came. He glances behind him at the bedroom. Tommy hasn’t come out yet. Adam reads the letter again. It’s short, its message nothing more than a day, a time, and a place. There’s a letter scrawled at the bottom. A signature he remembers well. A single _**M**_ stares accusingly at Adam from the bottom of the letter. Adam knows who it is.

He stuffs the paper back into the envelope when he hears Tommy emerge from the bedroom. He’s fully dressed and grabs his coat off the chair. He reaches up and kisses Adam on the mouth with a sated smile. Adam returns his smile and hopes it looks natural.

“I’m off,” Tommy tells him. “Have fun perfecting your aria.”

Tommy closes the door behind him, and Adam lets out a breath. Does he dare make this meeting? Does he open this door after he’d firmly shut it the night of the fire at his conservatory? He has a feeling that whether or not he wants it to, that door is about to blow wide open.

 

Adam enters the dim tavern. He detests places like this. They’re seedy and dirty. He can’t imagine why this is the chosen spot for this meeting. He pauses just inside and looks around. So many people losing themselves in alcohol, sex, and smoke. He walks in further, glancing around, not wanting to linger in any one spot, hoping he doesn’t have too stay long.

“Adam,” a voice calls.

Adam hasn’t seen him in five years. He looks almost the same. Small frame, dark hair, sharp features. He’s still handsome, but he hasn’t aged well. He looks older than his years, rougher. Adam’s heart skips in dread as he approaches the table in the corner.

“I wasn’t sure you’d show,” the man says, clutching the glass in front of him as if it were a support device. It’s as though Adam makes him nervous.

“Michel,” Adam formally greets. “To what do I owe this...meeting?”

“Sit,” Michel orders with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. When Adam doesn’t move, his expression softens. “Please, Adam. I’m not here to make trouble.”

Adam relents and pulls out a chair across from Michel. He sits, leaning back as Michel leans forward over the table.

“What’s this about,” Adam asks impatiently.

“Can’t I ask an old friend to have a drink with me, and catch up?” Michel asks.

“Rifiuti,” Adam replies. “You want something.”

  
Michel laughs. “Language, signore. You never curse. Well... almost never.”

He leers, and Adam suddenly feels sick. Michel is not something he really wants to remember. He hardens himself, eyes going expressionless, and stares at Michel.

“There it is,” Michel murmurs almost in reverence. “That coldness I knew well. That impassiveness. So fucking indifferent to everything and everybody.”

“Why are we here?” he asks flatly. “I have things to do.”

Michel snorts. Contempt creeps into his voice. “Oh right, you’re a big castrato now. Refined and famous, and everybody wants Adam. No time for those of us who made you, those you stepped on and used on your way up.”

“You didn’t make me,” Adam states. “And I don’t have time for this.”

Adam starts to get up.

“Yes, you have things to do, things to get back to,” Michel mocks. “Like one pretty little blond?”

Adam freezes, going numb.

“He’s gorgeous, Adam. You always did have good taste,” he smiles scornfully, taking a gulp from his glass.

“He has nothing to do with you,” Adam says in a low, dangerous tone.

“What’s his name?” Michel asks.

“Leave him alone,” Adam warns.

“Does he know?” Michel asks, his expression turning sad. “About the fire? And how you’re responsible for it?”

Adam sits stiffly. “I was not responsible for that fire.”

“You were and you know it,” Michel says in a hard tone.

Adam shakes his head, “What exactly do you want?”

Michel muses, “That fire ruined my career, my life. All that smoke caused me throat damage. Did you know that?”

Adam didn’t know that. He’s managed to put everything about that night far behind him.

“I’m sorry,” Adam says.

“If only apologies worked,” Michel replies.

“So what is all this, then?” Adam asks.

“I loved you. You ruined me,” Michel states. “Now I intend to ruin what you love most.”

Apprehension crawls up Adam’s spine. There are only two things in the world he loves. He couldn’t bear to lose either of them.

“I do have a heart,” Michel says. “So you can choose which one I can have - your career, or the blond.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't post chapter 3 until after New Year's. I'll be seeing Adam in OK New Year's Eve. I hope to see yall there, too!


	3. A Loaded Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to Send Me An Angel (you should start with that one first, if you haven't read it already)  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/875122

 

_Walking hand in hand, you are all I ever want. And when you’re not around dear, I don’t even notice you’re gone. Everything falls into place, but I think I need a little more time. A loaded smile, an empty glass, and one last dance._

Tommy stands on the balcony overlooking the large ballroom, crowded with fancy dressed people. People who’ve just come from the opera. Adam’s opera. Tommy openly admired Adam singing his words through the entire show, and Adam sang to him. There was a moment when Tommy felt they were the only two people in the entire theater. Until the applause started and Adam’s attention was diverted away from him. And of course, their presence was required at the party afterward. Well, Adam’s presence was required. Adam, knowing how Tommy felt about these functions, asked him to stay just a little while, please just a short while, then they’d go home, together. It was the “together” that made him relent, and he agreed to come. Now he’s on the outskirts of the crowd, drink in hand, watching Adam do his social butterfly thing. He hopes they can leave soon. One day, he’ll ask Adam to come straight home with him, just that one time, and see if Adam will give in like Tommy does.

He watches Adam being led from one group of ostentatiously dressed aristocrats to another, his arm looped through Baroness Alvintzi. She and her husband are huge patrons of the opera and support Adam’s career generously. They follow him everywhere from their homeland of Austria, and Adam feels duty bound to entertain them after the shows. Like they’re all old friends. The baroness introduces Adam to all her wealthy friends, who are suddenly Adam’s wealthy friends, and Tommy wants to puke. It’s all so fake in his mind. He wishes Adam could separate himself from it. Why can’t they just do what they love, enjoy it, and not have to depend on others to determine their worth? He’s presented this question to Adam many times. Adam can’t give him an answer other than, That’s how it works. Tommy tries to take it all in stride, even clamping down on his tongue when he sees Adam being introduced to young men who flirt unabashedly, constantly touching Adam’s arm or shoulder, leaning in to laugh. It infuriates Tommy, and Adam simply smiles and goes along.

He sighs, and downs the rest of his drink. He’s been here long enough to fulfill his “just a short while” obligation. He sets the glass down on the table next to him, intending to go downstairs and tell Adam he’d like to go now.

“Not enjoying the party?” a voice behind him asks.

Tommy turns, caught off guard. The man behind him smiles, holding up a hand.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says. “But I can’t help but wonder why you’re not down there with everyone else.”

“Why aren’t you?” Tommy asks, slightly annoyed.

“Because it’s pretentious bullshit,” the man replies. The statement is unexpected, and Tommy laughs in surprise.

“Thought I was the only one who felt that way,” Tommy says.

“Not at all,” the man says, moving closer. He peers over the balcony rail. “So who are you with? Or should I ask who are you waiting for to be done socializing so you can go home?”

“Uh, Adam,” Tommy replies shyly. “The singer.”

The man’s eyebrows raise. “The castrato?”

Tommy hardly ever refers to Adam as a castrato to other people. He’s just Adam, he’s a singer. Castrato stands for what was taken from him, cruelly done to him, and Tommy wants the public to see that Adam is much more than that. No matter what was physically removed during his childhood, he’s a complete person.

The man stares at Tommy, and although the stranger is handsome, it’s starting to make him uneasy.

“Aren’t you,” he starts, then stops as if trying to remember something. “Aren’t you a composer?”

Tommy smiles, ducking his head. People don’t usually recognize him right away. It’s kind of fun when they do, yet awkward.

“Yeah,” Tommy replies quietly, and motions behind him at the crowd below where Adam is laughing uproariously. “His. Adam’s composer.”

“Well, it’s a joy to meet you,” the man extends his hand. “I’m Daniel.”

“Tommy,” he replies, shaking Daniel’s hand.

He repeats Tommy’s name, almost like he’s rolling it around in his mouth to get the feel of it. Tommy pulls his hand away.

“You know, I really admire your work,” Daniel tells him.

“Oh?” Tommy responds politely. He’s ready to go.

“Seems to come from the heart,” Daniel continues. “I’ve heard Adam sing many times, but always wondered about the man behind those words, the heart, the experience. And now I’m meeting you. It’s wonderful.”

Daniel’s smile is genuine, and Tommy returns it. He looks back over the balcony to see where in the mob Adam’s is now. His smile falls away when he sees some fop draped over Adam’s shoulder, and Adam giggling at something the baroness is blithering on about.

Tommy looks away, back at Daniel, who gives him a sympathetic smile.

“Hey, these parties, they’re just business,” Daniel tries to reassure him. “It’s you he’s going home with.”

Tommy nods, but wonders how Daniel knows he and Adam are a couple and not just business partners, singer and writer. He didn’t think their intimate relationship was public knowledge. In fact, it shouldn’t be considering the legal ramifications. Tommy remembers that fact very well from the night Durante took revenge on his behalf. It’d been done in private so the attackers couldn’t openly accuse Tommy of relations with a man. Tommy’s not naive, it’s probably underground knowledge that he and Adam are together, but nobody talks about it like it’s real. It’s perfectly acceptable to have one night stands with the same sex, but you don’t actually carry on real relationships.

“I happen to know that the baroness has in the attic some of her garments encased in glass displays,” Daniel tells him, as though he’s letting Tommy in on a secret. “Outlandish garments she and Baron Alvintzi wore at various functions, like their wedding, their coronation, that sort of thing. It’s as pretentious as you can get, and kind of funny, too. You want to go take a look?”

Tommy blinks at the invitation. Daniel is a total stranger.

“Uh,” he stammers, trying to come up with an excuse.

“You’re going to be here a while longer,” Daniels says. “You might as well see something interesting, have a laugh. It’s better than watching your partner being pawed at by other men.”

The last comment stings, but Tommy knows it’s accurate.

“Don’t they live in Austria?” Tommy asks. “Why do they have displays like that here?”

“They move here to Italy during opera season,” Daniel tells him. “When it’s over, if they travel, they send most of these things here back to Austria. So, you want to see the displays?”

Tommy shrugs and relents.

“Yeah, okay,” he says.

“Follow me,” Daniel says with a smile.

Daniel seems to know his way and Tommy wonders if he’s friends with the family. Daniel replies, “sort of” when Tommy asks, and he doesn’t press the man further. He’s not all that interested anyway.

“I hope she’s got it lit,” Daniel says, topping the landing, Tommy behind him. “Ah, it is.”

Tommy sees an open door ahead, a glow coming from the room. Daniel walks in and Tommy stands in the doorway gazing around. It’s lit by oil lamps ensconced on the walls, six full glass displays, four empty displays. The full displays house marble statues with featureless faces, wearing elaborate clothing and large, glittering jewels. Each display contains two statues, one wearing a heavy beaded dress of rich fabric, the other wearing a lavish suit with trim matching the dress next to it. Tommy is fascinated by the garments; they’re certainly beautiful. But the arrogance is astounding. He can understand preserving the wedding attire, but the rest?

Ridiculous, he thinks.

“Told you it was pretentious,” Daniel said with a cocky smile.

Tommy laughs, “Yeah, this is something else. I can’t believe people go this far. They’re just clothes.”

Daniel nods his agreement. “Hard to believe people aspire to be in this class, isn’t it?”

Tommy cuts a look at him, thinking of Adam’s desire to be in the same class, as wealthy as these people.

“I mean, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” Daniel explains. “You work solely to keep yourself in money to impress the world, forgetting those that really love you, eventually tossing them away, even if you don’t mean to. Wealth becomes your reason for getting up every morning.”

Tommy hums in reply, feeling uncomfortable with the conversation.

“I hope that never happens to you,” Daniel says, staring intently at Tommy.

Tommy looks away. “Oh I wouldn’t worry about that. Adam’s not like that.”

“Not yet,” Daniel replies, then holds his hands up in defense when Tommy’s eyes flash in anger. “Apologies, Tommy. I mean no harm. I’ve seen it happen so often. Sometimes I forget my manners when I meet new people that I feel comfortable around. You seem like a nice guy, a good friend, and I’d hate to see you get hurt. And well, you looked kind of hurt when I walked up on you at the balcony.”

Tommy turns away. “I’m not, things are fine. Actually, I need to go downstairs and get Adam. I’m ready to go.”

He hopes that Daniel can’t really see that his insinuation is hitting home. It’s what Tommy fears will happen - Adam striving for wealth and fame, like those esteemed castrati before him, that he throws away everyone that cares about him, that he forgets Tommy and moves on. Adam’s not cruel, but wealth and fame is what he wants, he spends a great amount of time going after it, and Tommy’s afraid he’ll get lost along the way at some point.

Tommy walks out of the room, suddenly realizing how closed in and suffocating it is when the open air hits him in the face. Daniel’s hand takes his elbow from behind.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to offend you,” he says. “I’m really sorry.”

“Not at all,” Tommy says. “You didn’t offend me. It was just kind of stuffy in there. And I’m tired anyway.”

“Sure, sure,” Daniel says, smiling. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you.”

“And you,” Tommy replies.

“I’d really like to talk to you more,” Daniel tells him. “About your music if you don’t mind. Would that be alright?”

Tommy can’t really think of a reason why not. Adam spends most of his time working on arias, going out and mingling, and Tommy spends a lot of time alone it seems. He wouldn’t mind having someone else to talk to about music. Adam has his own worries and obligations. So he agrees to meet Daniel at the café on the canal the next afternoon. He walks down the stairs to find Adam in the crowd, feeling more exuberant than he has in a while. He’s got a new friend.


	4. Chasing the Shadows of Who You Wanna Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More in the sequel of Send Me An Angel

_Lay here ,it’s safe here, I’ll let you be broken open. Hide here, confide here so we can be broken open._             

“A note of music, however sublime it might be, dies as soon as it’s born.” - DaVinci

 

 Adam throws open the door to the apartment with such force it hits the wall with a bang, rattling it on its hinges. He flings down his coat and stands still, hands on hips, sighing heavily. Exasperated sighs. Tommy quietly closes the door behind him, not sure of what to say or if he should say anything. Tonight had not gone well. The audience had been loud, rude, inattentive despite Adam’s talent and efforts. The pit had been full of lowdown sort who were insulting and talkative. Women paraded about selling themselves as though they were in a brothel and not at the opera. Adam sung his heart out to no avail. No applause, no acknowledgment, nothing but ruckus noise and a near riot among the audience. No regard whatsoever for those in the orchestra or on stage. Tommy stayed huddled near the stage in a corner to avoid being physically pulled into the chaos. He could tell that Adam was angry and surprised at his audience. He wasn’t used to his charm being ignored.

Shoulders heavy, Adam walks to the window overlooking the street and leans his head against the pane, defeated. Tommy cautiously approaches.

“It’s just one performance,” he tells Adam quietly. “Just one. It’s not a big deal.”

 Adam lets out a harsh laugh. “Maybe it’s not a big deal to you, but it’s my career.”

 “It’s not the end of your career,” Tommy says. He has a feeling a fight is brewing and he should probably leave Adam alone to settle down.

“And just how do you know that?” Adam asks in a measured tone that causes Tommy to take a step back. Adam turns to face him, a cold smile on his face. “What exactly is your professional opinion, signore, that makes you believe this isn’t the start of the end? That everything is well and good in the opera world. Tell me.”

Tommy says nothing. He hates the look in Adam’s eyes. It’s the same look he saw years ago when Adam came to the conservatory, unyielding and almost hateful.

Adam smirks. “Right, nothing to say because you know nothing about it. This is my career, not yours. I was raised to do this, you weren’t. It’s me they shunned, not you.”

It was Tommy’s music actually, but he didn’t think this was the time to point it out. Tommy presses his lips together, trying to ignore the sharp pain of Adam pointing out Tommy doesn’t belong in the same career.

“The opera season in Italy is very short, Tommy, you know that,” Adam snaps. “If things don’t go well here, I don’t travel anywhere else, and I have to travel. I can’t just perform during Italy’s season, I’ll never make it. And then it was all for nothing.”

Tommy knows the money made singing abroad is twice as high as it is in Italy and the gifts are more abundant. But he also knows that’s not what Adam’s talking about when he says it’s all for nothing. He’s referring to the castration done when he was a child. This career is the only justification for it. Adam lives in constant fear that his career will be over and done in an instant and he can’t do anything about it.

Emotion flares behind Adam’s eyes, then shuts down, his expression hardens. He turns away from Tommy.

“Leave me,” he demands.

Tommy doesn’t argue. He doesn’t want to be around Adam when he’s like this. Without a word, he goes to the bedroom and shuts the door. He wonders if Adam will come to bed later or get drunk and pass out over his desk while torturing himself over everything he might’ve done wrong tonight. Probably the latter. Tommy sighs and quietly goes to bed.

He wakes in the morning and sees Adam’s side of the bed hasn’t been slept in. Tommy gets up and braces himself for more harsh words when he steps out of the bedroom. He sees Adam slumped over the desk, the empty bottle on the floor. The room reeks of alcohol. Tommy picks up the bottle and sets it aside. He picks up papers that have been thrown about the room, probably in Adam’s fury, and puts them in a neater pile. He runs a hand over Adam’s forehead and noting that his skin feels hot. It wouldn’t do at all for Adam to come down with an illness. That would make things much worse. He looks around the room, the air heavy with disappointment and booze. There’s not anything he can do here, not right now. He’s supposed to meet Daniel anyway.

He and Daniel have become fast friends. To Tommy’s surprise, Adam hasn’t objected. Tommy doesn’t know whether to be glad Adam trusts him or annoyed that he’s not at least a little jealous. Maybe Adam’s glad he’s no longer Tommy’s entire world, that he has someone else with whom to talk and pass time. After all, Adam chatters at most anyone who will listen at all those parties, so why would he begrudge Tommy a single friend. Daniel’s been supportive of Tommy’s feelings, listening to his rants about this opera business and what it does to Adam’s moods. He listens patiently, offering advice when asked, and Tommy’s been grateful to have someone to confide in. How could he complain to Adam about Adam’s career and position in life? It’s been quite a relief for Tommy, actually, to get some of it off his chest to someone impartial. And Daniel seems to just understand. He wishes he could talk to Isaac, but Isaac’s not here. Isaac met and married a young lady traveling from Scotland, and being an orphan, Isaac didn’t really have roots here, so he moved to Scotland to be with her and her family. Tommy didn’t blame him. He would do the same, but Adam never mentions his family let alone taken Tommy to meet them.

Tommy finishes dressing, and grabs his coat. Daniel’s taking him to breakfast, and frankly he feels he can scarf down a huge amount of fette biscottate right now. Adam is still passed out over his desk, and hasn’t moved an inch. Tommy hates leaving him like this, but what else can he do? Adam probably wouldn’t appreciate it, and Tommy has plans anyway. He puts on his coat and leaves.

 

“Sounds like things were rough last night,” Daniel comments.

Tommy’s just relayed the events of the opera, Adam’s rude outburst at him, and Adam passing out drunk in the sitting room while Tommy slept alone. Tommy just nods, shoveling another biscottate into his mouth.

“You have to remember,” Daniel says, “Adam was primo uomo practically overnight. That’s a lot of pressure, my friend. A lot of expectations. And he’s trying to keep up with it. Now, can he? Who knows? Maybe. Probably not, but he’s going with it right now, and he can only go so far at that pace before he ruins himself. And you.”

“Me?” Tommy asks.

“You,” Daniel repeats. “You’ve wrapped up your entire life in him, and I say that with all due respect. But what happens to him, happens to you. Whatever his mood is, it becomes your mood, too. I’ve seen this happen a lot with couples.”

Tommy nods to himself. It makes sense, even though he doesn’t like it.

“He is moody,” Tommy admits. “He doesn’t mean to be. He’s always been a natural actor, superb singer, he’s a strong presence and people love him so much. But yeah, his mood swings are worse than ever. I know he’s constantly worried, though.”

“About what?” Daniel asks.

“His voice,” Tommy says. “He’s afraid that his voice will give out. Or that someone better will come along, or like last night, the audience just won’t be interested anymore. Plagues his thoughts a lot, and he’s just on edge all the time now.”

“I see,” Daniel replies. “Makes sense. Let me ask you, if something were to happen to his voice and he could no longer sing, what would happen to you?”

“What do you mean?” Tommy asks. “Why would anything happen to me?”

 “For the sake of argument,” Daniel says. “Adam’s voice breaks, he no longer has that pure, crystal voice. His career is over then. What do you think that will do to his mood, then? It’d be hell living with him. If you even could. And you, my friend, would still go on writing music for opera singers. He would hate you for it, because you would still be in the world he no longer belongs to.”

Tommy shakes his head in disbelief, a coldness creeping over him. “No, he wouldn’t hate me. He wouldn’t... it’s not going to happen, his voice is fine.”

“I’m not saying it will happen,” Daniel says, raising his hands in surrender. “Not at all. But you never know. And there’s nothing wrong with thinking ahead, having a plan for things that can possibly happen. Besides, Adam doesn’t exactly treat you well at these parties, he ignores you. And he’s mean directly to you when he’s angry about something else.”

What Daniel’s saying sits on Tommy like a lead weight. Adam would never take it out on Tommy if his career was over. Would he? Then again, would Adam even be himself if he could no longer sing, if his one passion was suddenly stripped away? What would Adam become if he wasn’t a singer?

“I didn’t mean to bring you down today,” Daniel says, smiling. “Really. I’m just thinking out loud, and I should keep my mouth shut.”

“No, I’m not angry at you or upset,” Tommy assures him. “Just... well I never thought of any of that before. At all.”

“I over think things” Daniel tells him. “Don’t pay any attention to me, Tommy. I’m sure Adam’s voice won’t fail him, and you two will live happily ever after.”

Tommy smiles back at Daniel, but he doesn’t really feel it. Daniel’s given him something to think about. What if Adam did end up hating Tommy, what would become of Tommy? Because surely Adam wouldn’t want to be with him, not with a reminder of a world he lost. Feeling slightly nauseated, Tommy pushes his plate away.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to ruin your morning,” Daniels says. “Let’s get out of here. I wanna show you that little art gallery I was telling you about. They hold poetry readings there sometimes.”

Tommy nods, pushing back his chair and getting up. He shouldn’t give Daniel’s assumptions anymore thought, but he’s pretty sure they’ll nag him all day.

 

Adam paces the sitting room, wondering where is Tommy. He’d woken up mid-afternoon and Tommy was gone, no doubt off with his friend Daniel. Whoever that is. Adam peeled himself out of the chair he’d passed out in the night before, wincing at the ache in his joints. He remembered how awful he’d spoken to Tommy. He didn’t deserve Tommy at all. If he ran off with this Daniel guy, Adam wouldn’t blame him. He’s been hard on him lately. He hasn’t meant to be, and Tommy’s been patient and understanding, but it can only go so far. Last night was the first time Adam’s ever insinuated Tommy was lesser than him. It made Adam sick to think of that. What the hell was his problem?

Adam decided to make it up to Tommy. Try to anyway. He dressed and walked to the outdoor market. He would cook for Tommy. It would be a night in, just the two of them. He felt a giddy surge as he walked, picturing the look on Tommy’s face when Adam surprised him with dinner and alone time. He hasn’t meant to ignore Tommy either, but focusing on keeping his career going just took up so much damned time, and it usually exhausted him. But as he picked through the bell peppers, he heard a voice next to him that disturbed his mood.

“Got something yummy planned for the blond?” Michel asked.

Adam gave Michel a side glance. “What do you want?

“I’ve already told you,” Michel said. “You never answered.”

Adam ignored him, inspecting the peppers, selecting two, and paying. Michel inched his way along next to Adam as though they were shopping together. Adam headed for the tomato stand.

“Just so you know,” Michel said casually. “If you don’t choose, I will.”

“You can’t have either one,” Adam stated, sounding as bored as possible.

Michel laughed, and it sent a chill through Adam. “You sure about that?” Michel picked up the tomato Adam discarded, squeezing it.“Because if I had to choose, I think I’d rather have Tommy.” He sniffs the ripe tomato he’s holding, breathing out a groan of approval.

Adam’s stomach lurched and he nearly squeezed the tomato he was holding to a pulp.

“How do you know his name?” Adam asked calmly.

Michel winked at him, put the tomato down. “Enjoy your evening.”

He turned and walked away, leaving Adam nearly out of breath, because somehow Michel had found out Tommy’s name.

Adam was still rattled when he got home, but he managed to put together dinner, and now he’s waiting on Tommy. Still. Adam starts to feel anxious, Michel’s threat ringing in his ears. Tommy is Adam’s. He feels sure that Tommy wouldn’t go to Michel. He wouldn’t leave Adam. Would he?

After the way you’ve been treating him? he thinks. You haven’t given him any reason to stay. And you know how smooth talking Michel is. Tommy wouldn’t know which way was up by the time Michel was done.

No, Tommy is his. Michel can’t have him.

The door opens and Tommy walks in, setting down a small bag. He spots Adam standing across the room, and smiles.

“Sorry,” Tommy says. “Didn’t mean to be gone so long. We went to eat, then this little art shop. Then Daniel had somewhere to be. I wasn’t ready to come home, so I just wandered around the canal a bit.” He takes off his coat and drops it in a chair. “Did you cook? It smells amazing.”

Tommy walks to the bedroom, and Adam follows him and stands in the doorway, watching him. His blond fringe falls over his eyes as he kicks off his shoes. He turns, slightly startled that Adam’s standing there and not saying anything.

“Something wrong?” Tommy asks.

Adam shakes his head, looking Tommy up and down, then squarely in the eyes.

"Get undressed,” Adam tells him. Tommy looks unsure, but Adam nods. “Go ahead.”

“Are we eating naked or something?” Tommy asks.

Adam doesn’t reply. Tommy gives a slight shrug and starts removing his clothing. Adam watches him, feeling heat pool in his groin. The delicate face, the slender hands, the small frame... his hands itch to touch Tommy, but he waits. When Tommy’s completely naked, Adam lets his eyes roam his tiny body. Yes, this is his, and nobody’s taking him away.

“Lie down on the bed,” he tells Tommy.

He bites his lip at Tommy’s unquestioning compliance. Tommy’s always so willing, so eager to do what Adam wants. And Adam wants. Without taking his gaze off Tommy, Adam walks to the table and opens the drawer, taking out an oil bottle. Tommy’s eyes follow him, but he doesn’t say a word. Adam tosses the bottle on the bed, and removes his own clothes. He crawls onto the bed at Tommy’s feet. Taking Tommy’s ankles, he pushes his legs up and widens them out. Tommy is spread beautifully before him, and Adam takes in the sight, feeling his heart jump and beat in his stomach. Tommy always excites him. He runs his hands over Tommy’s inner thighs, listening for the change in Tommy’s breath, that deepening, the catch that tells him Tommy’s responding. When he hears Tommy’s breath get a little heavier, Adam moves his hands in and cups his balls. Tommy’s legs naturally widen more. Adam kneads him, feeling Tommy hardening in his hands. It makes his own cock harden, his own breath hitch. Adam has true beauty in the palm of his hands, and he loves it.

He leans down and sucks Tommy into his mouth, relishing the gasp escaping him and flowing into a moan. He works Tommy’s cock with his mouth, and reaches for the bottle of oil. He pours some on his fingers and slips them behind Tommy’s balls and into his ass. Tommy’s hips begin moving of their own volition. Adam wastes no time opening him while sucking him to the edge, then pulling back, holding him in his mouth until Tommy whimpers and kicks his feet in restless frustration. Though Tommy’s open and ready, Adam continues fingering his prostate, nipping at his balls, licking his cock until Tommy’s whining Adam’s name. When Adam easily slides in, he has to stop. The slick heat of Tommy’s tight body renders him immobile. If he moves too soon, it’ll be over. He can’t come this soon.

When he does move, the sensation is overwhelming. He watches Tommy’s face as he angles into his prostate. Watches Tommy’s face glaze over and go slack under it. He holds Tommy’s head between his hands and plants soft kisses over his cheeks, chin, forehead, and nose. His thrusts are steady and relentless. When he speeds up, Tommy’s body goes completely limp underneath him, his neck arches, his mouth opens, and a cry gets caught in his throat. Adam loves watching this, loves that he can do this to Tommy. His Tommy. His. He sharpens his moves, still holding Tommy’s head between his hands, and he whispers in Tommy’s ear.

“Who’s in you, Tommy,” he asks. ‘Tell me.”

A whine builds in the back of Tommy’s throat.

“Who makes you come, baby,” Adam whispers.

Tommy cries Adam’s name from deep within as his body shakes. Adam watches him come, feeling each tremble, each throb pass through him. Tommy’s body contracts against him and pulls him further inside. Adam’s hips drive hard and furiously until his body finally releases into Tommy’s. He clutches Tommy tightly, his heart pounding so hard that his vision wavers. He doesn’t want to move. Almost can’t move, all his energy expelled into this little blond. He kisses Tommy’s sweaty temple. Tommy’s breathing starts to even out to normal. Adam moves to lay next to him, pulling him to his chest. Tommy’s limp like a rag doll, attempting to return the embrace, and Adam smiles contentedly. He notices that dinner smells burned and ruined, but he couldn’t care less. This moment is worth the world.


	5. Underneath the Depth of My Sins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to Send Me An Angel.  
> Adam dreams.  
> Daniel surprises Tommy.

_He dreams._

_Adam walks down the corridor. The gray stone walls are cut with tall windows that are flanked by sheer white curtains. The curtains billow out, pushed by the wind outside. It’s dark and cold. He looks up. He doesn’t remember the ceiling being so high. He continues walking, the  curtains brushing against him as they flutter inward. He walks._

_He hears a noise behind him and turns. He’s no longer in the corridor, but in a room with no windows. The room glows with light from the oil lamps. It’s warmer in here. Shadows lurk in the corners. The air is foreboding. Something is wrong. Something is about to go very wrong._

_There’s no one in the room with him, but he can feel others emotions living here. Desire, hurt, sorrow. They bounce around him, through him, and he remembers them. He remembers who they belong to. He remembers it was his fault that it happened. His fault the way things ended. And he has no excuse. A flame flares in his peripheral vision. He looks over in time to see a ball of fire roaring at him. He screams._

 

He screams.

“Adam,” a voice calls with alarm. “Adam, wake up!”

Adam sits up, his scream cuts off. He’s drenched in sweat, and panting. His fear begins to subside when he realizes it was just a dream. Just a dream. The dream. Again. He’s been dreaming of the fire for the past two weeks, jerking awake in cold sweats, a scream on his lips. He’s never waken Tommy until now. His heartbeat slows, he feels his nerves calm. Tommy presses against him, concern rolling off him, and it almost makes Adam sick. After what he’s been responsible for and the hurt he’s caused, Tommy’s compassion is the last thing he deserves.

“Are you okay?” Tommy asks, wiping Adam’s hair out of his face. “It was just a dream. It’s okay now.”

No, it’s not okay. Adam has no idea why this is haunting him all of a sudden. Why not right after the fire? That would seem more logical, right after the fire burned down the conservatory, after Niko... Adam shakes his head to rid himself of the name. He can’t think about him or the fire or Michel. He realizes Michel and his conniving bullshit are the reasons his conscience feels guilty all of a sudden. Had it truly been Adam’s fault? Maybe. If it wasn’t completely his fault, he sure hadn’t helped matters. He closes his eyes against the memory trying to flood his mind again. He doesn’t want to remember it. The fight, the flames, the suicide. It could’ve been avoided if Adam had just kept to himself, had just done the right thing. But no, he had to let his ego get in the way.

He lays back down, Tommy pulling the blanket over him, so caring, and Adam nearly weeps. He loves Tommy beyond life, and Tommy deserves someone better. Not someone so tainted with past crimes. Tommy kisses his cheek and snuggles his head on Adam’s shoulder. He’s asleep again within minutes. Adam listens to him breathe. He lays awake for a long time, staring into the dark, trying not to remember.

 

Tommy slaps his coins down, betting on a card. Daniel smiles, holding the deck, poised to turn the top card

“You sure?” he asks Tommy with a dealer’s smile.

Tommy nods, and Daniel turns the top card. It’s a winning card, and Tommy lets out a whoop. Daniel came over to visit with Tommy and meet Adam. Tommy had offhandedly told Daniel where he lived during one of their conversations, but he didn’t think Daniel would remember much less show up one day. Tommy was surprised when he opened the door and saw Daniel standing there. For the last hour he’s been teaching Tommy how to play Pharaon, a card game that originated in France. Tommy’s never gambled, but this is kind of fun.

“And you win again,” Daniel exclaims. “You’re a regular shark.”

“I think you let me win,” Tommy points out.               

“Maybe at the start,” Daniel winks. “But you’ve caught on quickly. I’m impressed. We should go to Paris sometime and try this out in a real gambling hall.”

Tommy laughs. “That’d be interesting. But I don’t think Adam will ever go back to France.”

“Why not?” Daniel asks.

“Italians are hated in France,” Tommy explains. “They also detest castrati. All of Italian music, in fact, but especially castrati since they’re basically the face of Italian music. The only time we went, Adam was greeted with horrible jeers. They called him a cripple, they were unmoved by him, rude and hostile. A horrible poem was read aloud in his presence. Something about the arrogance from the leftovers of razors that are laughably admired because of their voice. It was just a very ugly experience.”

Daniel grimaces. “That sounds brutal.

Tommy nods. “It was. Adam was despondent for days after. He’s never been in the middle of so much hate. It wasn’t just a crowd, it was an entire country, all aimed at him for something that wasn’t even his doing. It was really hard to get through.”

Daniel shakes his head. “Okay, so maybe France is out for gambling trips. Or any trip.”

“Where did you learn this game?” Tommy asks, changing the subject. He hates remembering that trip to Paris. He doesn’t know why he even told Daniel about it. It just came out. He simply finds Daniel easy to talk to.

“A friend,” Daniel replies quietly. He smiles fondly at the memory. “A lovely friend of mine taught me this game.”

“Where is your friend?” Tommy asks. Daniel rarely talks about anybody in his life.

“Nick’s dead,” Daniel replies shortly.

Tommy winces. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

Daniel waves it off. “It was a long time ago. Sometimes I let it get to me still. But he didn’t let me win like I let you win.”

Tommy laughs, the tension broken. “I knew it! Come on, let me deal. I won’t let you win either, signore!”

Daniel turns over the deck of cards to Tommy and watches him shuffle.

“So what’s next on Adam’s agenda?” Daniel asks casually. “What are you guys planning next?”

“He’s working on a pezzi chiusi,” Tommy says, dealing the spades suit to set the layout.

 “Ah, a selection of closed pieces,” Daniel comments, gathering up his coins to make his bets.

“Yep,” Tommy replies. “He wants a set of arias and music independent of any theatrical production. Just songs that are valuable in their own right.”

“Sounds ambitious,” Daniel says, laying down his bet.

“The order of the arias is giving him trouble. It’s hard for me, too, since I wrote a lot of them,” Tommy says, turning over the third card. “And you lose.” He smiles at Daniel, raking his money to the side. He deals again.

Daniel places his bet. “Is Adam coming back anytime soon? I wanted to meet him.”

Tommy shrugs. “I don’t know. He left early this morning. In fact, he was up before dawn. Bad dreams.”

“Bad dreams?” Daniel repeats.

“Yeah, he’s been having them for the past couple of weeks, but he doesn’t think I know,” Tommy says. “Last night he woke up screaming.”

“Wow,” Daniel says, his brows furrowing in concern. “What are they about?”

“I don’t know,” Tommy says. “He won’t talk about them. I don’t ask. It agitates him, puts him on edge. He’s already exhausted and moody, I don’t wanna push it and make him feel worse.”

“I understand that,” Daniel says. “A dour castrato can be difficult to live with. Sometimes it’s just best to stay out of the way, no?”

Tommy shrugs, not really sure where Daniel’s headed with his insight. “I guess.”

He turns over a card, and Daniel laughs a little too high at the fact he’s lost his bet again.

Half an hour later, Tommy rakes in the last of Daniel’s coins. He’s lost every hand. Even the hands Tommy tried to let him win.

“One last hand,” Daniel pleads.

“You’ve nothing left to lose,” Tommy laughs. “I have all your money.”

“I have one item to wager,” Daniel says. “It’s a trinket. You must give me one last chance to win my money back, signore.”

“Alright, what it is? Let’s see,” Tommy agrees.

Daniel reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring with a sapphire teardrop set in the middle of the thick, ornate carved gold band, and lays it gently on the table. Tommy stares at it wide-eyed. The stone sparkles in the light.

“The queen of Madrid gave me that when I was a child,” Daniel tells him. “I was in the church choir, singing a solo, and after she presented this to me and said I was the angel of angels and sweeter than Farinelli, whom she favored. It’s been a kind of good luck piece over the years.”

“You can’t bet this,” Tommy says in a hushed tone.

“Of course I can,” Daniel says, leaning back with a smile. “And if I lose, there is no one I’d like better to have it.”

Tommy blushes. This jewel is much too special to be given to him on a bet. Daniel taps the table with his finger, indicating that Tommy should deal. Tommy does, feeling uneasy with such a fortune on the line. Daniel places the ring on the card he chooses to win. Tommy winces when he turns over the top card. A losing card.

“I’m not taking the ring, regardless,” Tommy tells him. “That wouldn’t be fair at all. It’s just a silly game.”

“Nonsense,” Daniel says. “You won fair and square.”

Tommy pushes his pile of coins - Daniel’s pile of coins - across the table at him.

“No, I won’t,” he says. “Take your money. It was just a game.”

“Well I won’t turn down my money,” Daniel laughs. “But I insist you keep the ring.”

“No,” Tommy starts.

“Yes,” Daniel persists, pressing the ring into Tommy’s hand. “You’re a special person, a good friend, and I want you to have it. I mean it. Take it. It should be passed on.”

Tommy stares at him. He doesn’t want this ring. But he doesn’t want to offend his friend by refusing it. So he just nods, agreeing just to avoid any argument. Daniel smiles and gets up.

“I must be off,” he tells Tommy. “I hate I didn’t get to meet Adam. I hope to soon, though.”

“Of course,” Tommy replies, walking him to the door. He hands Daniel his coat. “Thanks for coming by. The game was fun, just what I needed to relax.”

“I’m glad,” Daniel smiles. He looks at Tommy with an expression that Tommy can’t read. “You’re really special, Tommy. Don’t forget that.” He leans in and places a quick kiss on the corner of Tommy’s mouth. He turns and walks out the door, leaving Tommy standing stock still in shock.

Tommy’s still contemplating Daniel’s goodbye when Adam finally returns.

“Where have you been?” Tommy snaps.

Adam raises his eyebrows at his tone.

“The musica library,” he replies, frowning. He drops his papers on the table and sheds his coat. “You know that. I told you when I left where I would be.”

Tommy shakes his head. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”

“Are you okay?” Adam asks.

Tommy nods, and follows Adam to the sofa. He curls himself into a ball on Adam’s lap, Adam’s arms wrapping around him.

“Ti amo,” Adam whispers in his ear.

“Ti amo,” Tommy replies, smiling.

He lays his head on Adam’s shoulder. He can’t imagine life without Adam, can’t imagine not loving Adam. But he can’t stop replaying Daniel’s goodbye kiss and what it might mean.

                        


	6. Lay Me Down in Darkness, Tell Me What You See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam has more dreams and visitors.

 

_He slides into Tommy, pinning his chest against the wall, holding that tiny body in place. Laying his cheek on Tommy’s shoulder, his hips drive in rhythm. Tommy makes no noise. It’s odd to hear nothing when he knows he’s giving Tommy all his favorite angles and moves. Angles and moves that make his head fall back, his blond hair fall haphazardly into his eyes, and his mouth open in gasps and drawn out moans. Adam relishes all of that. But Tommy’s not making any sound at all this time. He thrusts harder, and harder, suddenly intent on driving out some sort of reaction even if he has to hurt Tommy._

_Hurt. He’s good at that. Hurting people. Causing emotional pain, suicides and fires. Anger. He’s angry at Tommy for being so quiet, so unresponsive. He used to be angry all the time at life, people’s reactions to him, what he was, but Tommy changed all that. His grip tightens on Tommy, fingers digging into his muscles, and he’s merciless with Tommy’s ass. It has to hurt by now. Why isn’t Tommy reacting? He moves sharp and deep, snapping his hips against Tommy. He raises his head and grips Tommy hard by the back of the neck. Nothing. Is Tommy even alive? The idea jolts Adam and he stops fucking him. Not only has Tommy been silent, he hasn’t moved at all. Tommy’s face is still to the wall, his arms hang limply at his sides, and a chill runs through Adam. He lightens his hold. Tommy begins to slump to the floor, and Adam catches him, tightening his arms around Tommy again, holding him up against the wall. He panics. What’s happened? What’s happened to Tommy? Who did this? Did he do this?_

_“Tommy?” he whispers._

_Flames explode around Tommy. Adam screams._

 

He sits up, choking on the scream coming out of him.

“Mio dio, are you alright?” Tommy asks, sitting up next to him.

Adam takes in gulps of air. He focuses on Tommy next to him. He looks startled and sleepy in the glow of the dying embers across the room. Adam nods, trying to catch his breath without Tommy realizing how scared he is.

“What’s going on?” Tommy asks soberly. “What are the dreams about?”

“Nothing,” he croaks. “Nothing, really. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“You’ve been having them for weeks,” Tommy says. “They’re not nothing.”

“What do you mean weeks?” Adam replies, looking away.

“I lie beside you night after night, you think I don’t know?” Tommy says.

Adam takes a deep breath and turns back to him, trying to smile.

“Don’t worry, amore,” he says. “It’s nothing. Really.”

Tommy frowns, unconvinced.

“It’s just stress,” Adam insists. “I promise.”

Tommy sighs. He obviously doesn’t believe Adam’s feeble lie. He opens his mouth to say more, possibly insist that Adam tell him what the dreams are about, but he closes it again. He nods and lays back down. Adam pulls the blanket over him, tucking it around his shoulders, kissing him on the temple. He slides out of bed, feeling Tommy’s eyes on him as he leaves the room. He closes the door softly behind him.

He lights a candle. He doesn’t want to light an oil lamp. Not after that dream. Not with Niko on his mind. He stands at the window and stares down at the dark street. Niko had been small, like Tommy, high energy, bright smile, another castrato at the old conservatory. He’d taken a shine to Adam. Niko took a shine to most people, it was in his nature to love, but he flirted harder than usual with Adam. Only Adam couldn’t be bothered, but it didn’t deter Niko in the least. And when Adam was drunk, feeling lonely and slouching in self-pity, he finally gave in, fucking Niko against the basement wall in the conservatory. He regretted it in the middle of the act itself. He got off anyway, then turned his usual cold shoulder - perhaps colder than usual - to a thoroughly smitten Niko. Adam’s brush off had dire consequences for them all.

Regret isn’t something he’s used to, but he’s been feeling it lately. Niko was his fault. The fire was ultimately his fault. Maybe he should share this with Tommy, but he couldn’t bear to see the light in Tommy’s eyes go out when he realizes the type of person he’s with. And Tommy’s been through enough, again due to Adam. No, he would keep this to himself. Maybe the dreams are being triggered by stress like he said.

More likely being triggered by Michel showing up, he thinks, feeling panic and anger well up.

Yes, Adam had used Michel, Michel had used Adam, only Michel let feelings develop. When he’d confessed this to Adam, Adam had laughed and told him that this was just sex, a release and nothing more. Michel tried to pursue him, but Adam ignored every attempt as though Michel wasn’t there. It crushed Michel’s spirit but he persisted, so Adam took to parading other lovers in front of Michel, reacting flippantly to his sobs and pleas. Adam wanted nothing to do with love and relationships, he told Michel. If Michel wanted sex, fine, but that was all they had between them. Love was not Adam’s future. Well the joke was on him now.

And now he wants to hurt me like I hurt him, he thought. By taking Tommy.

Adam backs away from the window and sits heavily in the desk chair. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He can’t think about the past right now. There’s too much to do regarding the present. His a pezzi chiusi for one thing. He’s got his selection down to 15 songs, but he needs to cut the number further. It’s difficult as he has a connection with each and every song, just like Tommy does. For the first time, Adam wants a tight collection of music that represents his life in music and with Tommy. His mind wanders to the blond curled up in bed, asleep. He should be in there next to him, not out here pondering ugly memories of betrayal, death, and fire.

If it wasn’t for death and fire, he thinks. You wouldn’t have found Tommy at all.

He takes a deep breath, letting it out in a determined rush, and forces himself to focus as he leafs through the music in front of him.

 

Hours later, the sun is burning high in the sky, Tommy is off again with his friend Daniel, and Adam sits heavily in his chair, staring at music that is becoming blurred by his tired eyes. His head is aching, and he puts the sheets down. He frowns at the sharp tap on the front door. He’s not expecting anyone. When he opens the door, his frown lifts into a smile.

“Saluti, Adam,” Durante smiles.

“Maestro,” Adam greets. He opens the door wider to usher Durante inside. “A surprise visit. Tommy will be upset he’s missed you. I hope you can stay a while.”            

“Tommy’s not here?” Durante asks, and Adam swears the maestro is close to pouting. “Oh that’s a shame. I was hoping to see him, to see both of you.”

Durante and Adam sit on the sofa. For the first time, Adam’s spirit feels lighter. Durante is a soothing soul and he genuinely cares.

“So tell me all the news,” Durante demands. “I want to hear everything you’re up to. I hear your name all the time in social circles, people are completely struck by you. I’m not surprised, mind you.” He winks at Adam.

“Things are,” Adam starts, and pauses. He was about to say things are great, but they aren’t. “Hard,” he finishes. “Things are hard.”

“Career things?” Durante inquires. “Tommy things? Or just things in life in general?”

Anyone else and Adam would’ve told them how to mind their own business, but not Durante. Durante is a father figure, he always has been for many castrati and orphans. He’s Tommy’s godfather, a mentor to them both, and Adam has a great deal of respect for him, particularly after the way he took care of Tommy after he was attacked. Durante is a friend, someone who can be counted on. And Adam needs to relieve some of the burden on his mind.

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” Adam says.

“Why not?” Durante asks.

“I just...,” he starts. How do you tell someone you caused another person’s death and the loss of another’s career? He sighs. “Bad dreams.”

Durante hums. “Too much stress, or something darker?”

“Both?” Adam answers.

Durante nods. “And have you talked to Tommy about the things bothering you?”

Adam shakes his head.

“Why not?” Durante asks kindly.

“I don’t want to lose him,” he answers truthfully. “I can’t lose him.”

“Tommy loves you a great deal,” Durante says. “Don’t you trust that?”

“I do, but...” Adam stops again. If he really does trust Tommy’s love there would be no but. “This life is hard for him. On him. He’s been through so much already, and this world we’re part of doesn’t really help.”

“I thought it might be difficult for him,” Durante agrees. “It’s a shallow, jaded, and unkind group we’re part of. Tommy’s got a gentle heart, and he honestly cares for people. I’m sure it’s not easy watching his lover being paraded about like a prize possession, all the attention, the demands, the selfishness. Tommy’s not one to be the center of attention, he’s not comfortable there. You are. So there needs to be some balance in between. Has there been?”

Adam thinks of all the times he’s dragged Tommy to parties after shows, how Tommy didn’t want to go but went anyway for Adam, then stood off to the side all night, ignored and looking miserable while Adam sucked up to everyone in the room. He thinks of all the times he went to engagements without Tommy, cancelled dates with Tommy. So many nights coming home in the early hours of the morning, drunk, and Tommy already in bed asleep. He deserves it if Tommy leaves him.

“I think he’s found someone else,” Adam whispers. There he’s said it. He swallows thickly.

Durante frowns. “And who would that be?”

Adam snorts. “I don’t even know. He met some guy at a party we were at and they’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

“As what?” Durante asks. “Friends?”

Adam nods. “Yeah, friends. But things with us haven’t been too good. I haven’t been attentive at all. I’ve been selfish and short tempered, and....”

Adam hangs his head. He rubs the tears out of his eyes, and looks up at Durante with a sad smile.

“I can’t blame him,” he says with resolve.

“You don’t know that they’re anything more than friends,” Durante tells him. “Don’t borrow trouble in assuming. It sounds like what you need to do is have a good old fashioned talk with Tommy. Tonight. And if he is thinking of leaving, well don’t let him get away.”

Adam laughs. “When was the last time anyone made Tommy do something he didn’t want to do?”

Durante laughs with Adam. “He is a feisty one, true. But he loves you, Adam. I don’t think he would ever want to leave you for anything, or anyone. Especially if you tell him you don’t want him to go. So make sure he knows you want him to stay.”

Adam nods. He supposes he should break down that last wall and let Tommy in, tell him everything, and hope that he will stay.

“Don’t put it off, Adam,” Durante says. “Do it tonight. Do it as soon as possible. If you have to fight for him, do it.”

“I will,” Adam agrees. “I promise. I won’t let him go.”

“Well I must be off,” Durante says, rising. “I hope that our talk has helped you.”

“More than you know,” Adam tells him, standing.

“I hate I missed Tommy, but you will tell him I stopped by?” Durante asks as they walk to the door.

“As soon as he walks in,” Adam promises.

Durante pauses on the landing. “Adam, you’re a good person. Tommy knows that. Trust him.”

After Durante leaves, Adam paces the living room, waiting for Tommy, thinking about what to tell him, what to ask, what to do, how to explain the secrets he’s been keeping for so long. The fire has gone cold in the living room. Adam reaches for the box of matches on the mantle, but finds it empty. He searches the room, the desk drawers, and tables looking for more. Tommy usually keeps the match box filled, and Adam wonders where he would keep the supply. He goes into the bedroom, amazed that he doesn’t even know where Tommy keeps anything. What’s happened to them? He looks around the room, and since the matches don’t magically wave to him, he goes to Tommy’s beside table and starts searching the drawers. He opens the top drawer and sees the gold ring sitting on top of the box of matches. He frowns. He hasn’t given Tommy a ring. He picks it up to look at it closer. Adam recognizes this ring and his blood runs cold. Icy fear runs through him and his hands shake as he holds the ornate ring. Adam remembers this ring. Michel never took it off.

“Adam?”

He hears Tommy come through the front door. Still holding the ring, he can’t seem to catch his breath.

“Adam, are you here?” Tommy calls. “Daniel wants to meet you.”

Oh dear god, he thinks, feeling dizzy. All this time...

He rushes from the bedroom. Tommy’s standing by the sofa, smiling, eager to introduce his friend.

“Adam, this is my friend Daniel,” Tommy says.

Adam looks at Tommy’s friend in horror. Panic, anger, and fear coalesce into one wave of  raging emotion. 

“The pleasure is mine, Adam,” Michel says, smiling coldly.

 

                


	7. Love is Where the Heart Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontation. Tommy learns the truth about Adam and makes a decision.
> 
> *None of this is real, work of fic only*

Adam feels his stomach drop to his feet. He’s still clutching the ring, staring at its owner.

“It’s nice to see you, signore,” Michel states with smile and a stone hard gaze.

“Get away from him, Tommy,” Adam says in a soft tone. He’s afraid to raise his voice, afraid it will set off the bomb that’s surely getting ready to explode anyway.

Tommy, looking unsure, replies, “Why? It’s Daniel. My friend Daniel.”

He sees the ring gripped between Adam’s fingers.

“The ring was just a wager,” Tommy explains. “I won it at a card game. It wasn’t a gift or anything. I won it. I wasn’t gonna keep it.”

“Get away from him,” Adam repeats.

“What’s the matter with you?” Tommy asks. “He’s just a friend.”

Michel chuckles. “Tell him what’s the matter with you, Adam.”

Adam reaches out and takes Tommy’s arm, pulling Tommy to his side, his eyes never leaving Michel.

“That’s not his name,” Adam says, his voice still calm, not betraying the fear crashing through him. What is Michel here to do? Can he protect Tommy? It doesn’t matter what Michel does to him so long as Tommy isn’t hurt.

“What do you mean that’s not his name?” Tommy asks, his tone impatient. “He’s my friend, of course I know his name.”

Adam shakes his head. “He’s nobody’s friend.”

Michel’s smile fades. “Not true. I was someone’s friend. And he’s dead because of you.”

“What?” Tommy’s confusion is evident. “What are you talking about?”

Michel smiles at Tommy sympathetically. “Dear Tommy, I’m afraid I was less than honest with you. My name is really Michel. I’ve known Adam for a long time. We were at the same conservatory. Before he burned it down.”

“He burned it down?” Tommy looks up at Adam.

“Why are you doing this?” Adam asks.

Michel continues talking to Tommy. “I know what kind of person Adam is. I know what he’s done. What he’s capable of. And when I saw you, well, I wanted to help you, protect you from the same fate Niko met.”

“I don’t understand,” Tommy states. “What the hell are you two talking about? You know each other?”

“We know each other intimately,” Michel divulges with a side smirk at Adam, which makes Adam’s stomach churn. “Adam and I were lovers at our conservatory. Well, Adam was lovers with most of the castrati there. He just sort worked his way through us all for his own amusement, passing the time until he became famous. Right, Adam?”

“Not exactly,” Adam replies. It’s only partly true. He didn’t make it through all of them, but the ones he was with were just for fun. It was just a release, they all knew it, he made that very clear from the start. But he can feel Tommy’s eyes on him, and he doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s silently asking if any of this is true.

“You see, Adam only had time for any of us if we could meet his needs. And when he was done, he turned his back and walked away. We were of no more use,” Michel says. He keeps his tone upbeat as though he’s telling a fantastic joke, but there’s no mistaking the spite underneath.         “I was one of his conquests,” he continues. “I fell for it. I fell for him. And he turned his back, like he always did. See, you can’t get close to Adam, not really. He’s got walls up, several layers of walls, so you never really know who you’re dealing with. You get through one wall, bam you hit another.” Michel smacks his hands together to emphasize. “He’s intoxicating, to say the least, and he turns you inside out, then he’s just gone. Just turns away like you never mattered, and the fact is you didn’t matter. Then he got to Niko, who was my best friend. Niko was a pure song bird, delicate, beautiful, bright. A lot like you, Tommy. He loved Adam, same as most of us. Adam took what he wanted and never looked back.”

Adam feels the regret and shame welling up inside him. He deserves this, he supposes. To have Tommy hear the truth, to have Tommy walk away.

“And here’s where it gets good,” Michel goes on, becoming animated. “Niko was so distraught that Adam had used him, just fucked him in the cellar and refused to say a word to him after, that he cried for weeks. Couldn’t stop. He didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, just passed through each day like he was already dead. And guess who dealt with that? Guess who heard his weeping all night? Guess, Adam!”

Adam winces at Michel’s shout.

“Guess who picked up that broken soul off the floor every night, wailing because you refused to even acknowledge him? How could you, Adam? How could you do that to him?”

Adam swallows but it gets stuck in his throat. He doesn’t know. He has no answer or reason for why he had been such an asshole. It wouldn’t matter anyway. Michel’s not really looking for one.

“Weeks of misery and sorrow,” Michel continues. “His singing suffered, his health suffered, his mind suffered, he suffered. Nothing helped, especially when you paraded other boys in front of him. It finally broke him, and he snapped. He followed you to the cellar, you and that toy of the night you had with you. I knew he was going to confront you. I knew his mind was in a dark place. I didn’t want him to hurt himself. I wanted him to hurt you. I thought he was going to hurt you. Instead, he smashed the oil lamp at his own feet, and...”

Michel’s sentence chokes off. He takes a deep breath. Adam’s muscles are jumping with tension. He remembers this all too well. He can feel Tommy next to him holding his own breath.

“The flames just shot up,” Michel says flatly. “Who knew fire could crawl so fast? That tiny figure just... swallowed by fire in an instant. And the screaming...” He looks at Adam with disgust. “I hear him screaming every night. I smell his burning flesh. You ran. You didn’t even try to save him. You fucking ran like a coward. I tried to put him out. Didn’t matter, he was as good as dead when I finally found a blanket. The fire spread through the cellar, up the stairs, took down the whole damn building. What a sight. Everyone lucky enough to make it out was sitting on the grass in front of this massive burning structure, coughing, gagging, crying. The smoke ruined my vocal cords. I never sang again. And, of course, neither did Niko. But Adam got out okay.” Michel shoots him a bitter smile. “Yep, Adam got out just fine, and went on like nothing ever happened.”

“I’m sorry,” Adam says in a whisper. He knows it’s not accepted before he even says it, but he feels like he should say it anyway.

“Fuck your sorry,” Michel tells him. He turns to Tommy. “That’s why I lied, Tommy, about my name and didn’t tell you I knew Adam. I saw you at that party looking lost, and I knew I couldn’t let Adam do it to someone else. I couldn’t. I care for you a great deal, you’re my friend. I want to keep you safe because you’re a priority with me. You see you can’t stay here now.”

Adam can’t bear to look at Tommy. This is what it’s come down to. Payback. Retribution for his past actions. And he deserves it. He’ll accept it and move on. It’ll kill him when Tommy leaves, but he’ll respect whatever Tommy wants.

Tommy finally speaks. His voice is quiet and unsure. “Why wouldn’t I stay here?”

Michel snorts. “Weren’t you listening? I just told you why. He’s a user. He ignores you, he treats you like second best. You’re not his priority until he wants something. You know that. We’ve discussed all this.”

Adam finally looks at Tommy. It hurts his soul to see Tommy looking guiltily at his feet.

“I was just talking,” Tommy mumbles. “I didn’t mean I was leaving, or anything.”

“What else are you going to do, Tommy?” Michel asks impatiently. “Huh? You think he’s changed? You think he’s not the same self centered bastard who killed Niko?”

“He didn’t kill anyone,” Tommy says, looking up. “Niko killed himself.”

“Because of Adam!” Michel shouts, and Tommy flinches. “If he’d minded his own business, if hadn’t been such a whore, Niko would still be alive! He as good as set Niko on fire himself!”

Tommy’s voice shakes. “What Adam did was reprehensible. But he didn’t light that fire. I’m sorry, so sorry for your friend and your loss, but Niko made that choice, not Adam.”

Michel’s fury shows on his face for a split second, then disappears. He nods his head, pretending to mull over what Tommy said.

“Okay, I see where you’re coming from,” he says. “But you can’t possibly stay with him after knowing all of this. That’s why I came here today. To tell you what he did, and to save you. You’ll meet the same end if you stay. I can’t let that happen to you.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Tommy says carefully. “But I’m not Niko, and my relationship with Adam is different. He’s not the same person that you knew then. I understand your anger, and Adam should’ve been more thoughtful to all of you, but I’m sure he never meant for anyone to die.”

“You’re defending him?” Michel balks. “Of course you are, he’s gotten to you. Tommy, you cannot trust him.”

“Apparently I can’t trust you either,” Tommy retorts. “You’ve been lying to me all along.”

“I did it so I could get close to you,” he explains. “Adam would have never let us be friends if he knew it was me. I’m not out to hurt you. I saw you at that party, standing on the outside of it, not part of it or him that night, just alone. One night of many he’s done that to you. I would never do that to you. How many times has he let you down? Hurt your feelings? Left you sitting alone, waiting on him? Tommy, that’s not love. That’s what he does. He hooks you, then you’re left to fend for yourself while he strings you along. We’ve talked about this. For hours I’ve listened to you talk about feeling underappreciated and forgotten. Don’t let it go on. Leave.”

“No.” Tommy states it so bluntly that it catches Adam by surprise, and Michel as well judging by his expression.

“No,” Michel repeats. “Just like that, no? I tell you how abominable he is and you’re just gonna stay? He hasn’t even tried to defend himself! What does that say? That everything I’ve said is the truth!”

“I love him,” Tommy replies. “Things need to be discussed and some things need to change, it’s time, but it’s between Adam and me. I’m sorry if I led you to believe something different. I love Adam, and no one else.”

Adam swallows the lump in his throat. He’s dying to crush Tommy in an embrace, press kisses all over his face. He can feel the last wall he’s been keeping around himself start to crumble as he stares at Tommy, and he’s suddenly more afraid than he’s ever been before.

Michel nods. “So that’s that. Well have it your way. But he’s your doom, Tommy. Make no mistake.”

Michel turns to leave. Tommy grabs the ring from Adam’s clenched fingers. Adam forgot he was holding it.

“Daniel,” Tommy starts. “Sorry, Michel, I mean.”

Michel turns back, and Tommy holds out the ring.

“You should have this back,” Tommy says.

“You can keep it,” Michel tells him.

“No,” Tommy replies. “Really, I can’t.”

Michel shrugs and pockets the ring. He turns and leaves without another word or look back. Adam feels the tension flood out of his body and he feels weak, almost dizzy. He stares at Tommy’s back. Tommy finally turns to face him, and Adam feels new tension rise up and seize him.

“Niko loved you,” Tommy states. Adam nods. “Why did you run? Why didn’t you try to save him?”

Adam feels nausea building, and he takes a deep breath.

“The fire was so quick,” Adam says quietly. “It just flew all over him, and it... it was so damn fast, the oil and flames went everywhere. And I couldn’t even comprehend that he’d done it. Your brain can’t really catch on to something like that when it’s happening right in front of you, not right away. And by the time I realized what was happening, that he was burning... Tommy, putting him out, keeping him alive would’ve been horrible torture in the end. He was completely engulfed. If he’d even lived, the burns would’ve killed him later and he would’ve been in agony until the end.”

“So you couldn’t comprehend what was happening in front of you, but you could think well enough to reason that out?” Tommy asks.

“You’re right, I didn’t think of all that right then and there,” Adam admits. “I suppose I ran because I was afraid. Plain and simple. I was scared. And I figured it was my fault. I did that, and I ran from it, because it wasn’t just a broken heart I was dealing with. It was more serious, more than I could handle. And I ran.”

Adam’s surprised at his own honesty about this. He’s never admitted this to anyone.

Tommy looks at him thoughtfully. “What if it were me?”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“What if it was me you were dealing with?” Tommy asks. “We’re more than a fling, I’m not a toy for you. I’m not the boy down the hall that was your one night stand. What if it was me on fire? Would you run away from me, too?”

Adam feels emotions surge forward so fast they hurt, leaving him breathless - love, fear, fight, possessiveness.

“Tommy, if it was you, I would run to you,” Adam chokes out. “I would burn with you, because I couldn’t go on without you in this world. There’s simply no comparison.”

Tommy blinks, looking away, trying not to let tears fall.

“I wasn’t a nice person then,” Adam says. “I could’ve been kinder. I should’ve been kinder, but I wasn’t. I have no excuse. I’m sorry that all this came out the way it did, that Michel tricked you.”

“I just wanted a friend,” Tommy says quietly. “Someone to spend time with and talk to.”

Adam’s heart breaks. He’s the reason Tommy sought companionship elsewhere. Because he wasn’t there. “I’m sorry, baby. I haven’t been there. I haven’t been good to you lately, and I’m so very sorry. I’ve been unhappy with other things and I’ve taken it all out on you, and that’s wrong. I want so much to make it up to you, to make things better. You’re a treasure I don’t deserve at all, and if you want to leave, I’ll understand.”

“You don’t fucking listen, do you?” Tommy snaps. “I said I wasn’t leaving.”

Adam simply nods his agreement and shuts his mouth. He wants so badly to embrace Tommy, hold him close and tight, but Tommy’s agitated, still processing all he’s heard. 

“I don’t want to go to those parties anymore,” he says, looking Adam square in the eyes, challenging him. “But if we do go, I want to be with you, not shoved to the side. And we leave together. We are together.”

Adam nods. Right now, he’d sit bareass in hot coals mixed with broken glass if Tommy wished it.

“No more late nights, coming home drunk,” he continues. “No more broken dates. I’m tired of it. You love me, show me. Always, not just when it’s convenient.”

Adam nods again. “Of course.”

“And don’t just agree with me because you feel guilty right now,” Tommy points out. “I don’t need pity promises, or promises made because you think I’ll leave.”

Adam smiles fondly at Tommy’s spunk. “I would never make empty promises to you, amore. You’re right, things have gone downhill and they need to change. I only wish it hadn’t taken this to make me realize it.”

“Michel was out to hurt you,” Tommy states. “By ruining our relationship.”

“He wanted you,” Adam tells him.

“He can’t have me,” Tommy replies.

“Why not?” Adam asks.

“Because I’m yours,” Tommy answers.

Adam feels the vibe in the room suddenly shift. Tommy’s eyes have grown darker, his lips pout just a little more, and Adam’s cock stirs. He reaches out and finally pulls Tommy to him. Tommy’s mouth meets his without hesitation. Adam hooks an arm around Tommy and walks them to the bed. He lays Tommy down, stripping off clothing, kissing warm skin, pausing to breathe in Tommy. His eyes never leave Tommy’s face as he opens him up and gently slides in. He watches Tommy writhe contentedly, biting his lip, moaning, and when his moans turn to whines, Adam knows Tommy’s close. Tommy’s hand flutters indecisively, trying not to stroke himself and come because he knows Adam’s not done. Adam smiles.

“Do it,” he whispers in Tommy’s ear. “I’ll fuck you hard again, baby. I want you to come.”

Adam’s hips move slowly and he caresses Tommy’s balls as Tommy strokes himself hard and fast. He could watch Tommy do this all day. Tommy coming is one of the sexiest things he’s ever seen. He keeps his hips at a steady, slow rhythm allowing Tommy to ride through the orgasm and come down. When Tommy looks languidly at Adam, he pauses. He’s never felt so open and vulnerable in his life as he does right now.

“I want you to stay,” Adam tells him. “I need you to stay. I need you.”

Tommy smiles. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

Adam cups Tommy’s face in his hands, covering it with soft kisses as his hips pick up their rhythm. He licks and strokes and kisses Tommy hard again. And when Tommy comes the second time, his neck arching, breath caught in his throat, mouth open in a silent cry, Adam is right there with him, Tommy’s name a litany on his lips. He feels the world come into perspective. It’s not the opera he was made for, but this being underneath him.

 

He awakes. It’s dark. What woke him? Did he hear a noise? Did he have a bad dream he can’t remember? Tommy’s sleeping soundly next to him. His face is angelic in the moonlight. Adam smiles, touching his gold hair. It’s silky, it’s lovely, it’s Tommy. He sighs, satisfied.

He hears a shuffling in the next room, and his muscles stiffen in alarm. He raises his head, looking at the closed bedroom door. Something’s not right and it woke him. He carefully slides out of bed, grabbing his pants off the floor and putting them on. He looks toward the bed again, and seeing Tommy hasn’t moved, he walks to the door as silently as possible. He cracks it open, peering out. The sitting room is lit, and he frowns. He knows they didn’t leave a lamp burning, they never do. He opens the door enough to slide out and closes it behind him. Glancing around cautiously, he walks into the room.

Michel is standing by the writing desk. Adam stops cold. He realizes this isn’t over at all like he thought. His heart speeds up. He prays Tommy doesn’t wake up.

“How did you get in?” he asks cautiously.

Michel turns. “I told you I would take either Tommy or your career. And well, Tommy didn’t work out the way I planned.”

“Let me guess, you’re going to announce to the public, to the papers the story you told Tommy?” Adam asks, anger rising.

Michel chuckles, walking to him. He stops and looks Adam in the eyes with such malice that Adam fights himself not to take a step back.

“I wouldn’t do something so pedestrian,” Michel says.

Michel moves his arm, and Adam feels a punch to his stomach.

A fight? he thinks. He wants a physical fight? That’s so stupid.

Adam looks down at the letter opener - his own letter opener - protruding from him just below his sternum. He looks back at Michel in shock, hot pain beginning to wind its way out from the wound to the rest of his body.

“Good luck singing opera with a damaged diaphragm,” Michel says.

As Adam collapses to his knees, trying to breathe, Michel picks up the oil lamp on the table. He turns his back on Adam and heads toward the bedroom. To Tommy. 


	8. It's a Very, Very Mad World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things escalate.

_Tommy._

Tommy hears a whisper deep inside sleep. He pays no mind. A comfortable sleep has hold of him, his body deliciously exhausted, his mind churning with dreams of the future. Hearing Adam say he wanted and needed Tommy to stay renewed his faith in them. The past is the past, and it has no business haunting them, and they won’t let it.

_Tommy, wake up._

But he doesn’t want to wake up. He briefly wonders why Adam is asking him to wake up. Is he late for something? He could be, and that thought begins to bring him up to consciousness. He dreamily wonders if he and Adam can take a vacation before they have to tour abroad. It’d be so wonderful to go somewhere quiet, warm, and have time and space to focus on nothing but each other.

_Get up, Tommy._

Why is Adam getting testy? He must want to work on his a pezzi chiusi. Adam’s been doing most of the arranging and cutting, but if Tommy helped, then it would get done faster and they could go on the vacation he’s dreaming up. Tommy hums.

“I said get up,” a voice snaps.

Tommy frowns, realizing that while the voice is familiar, it isn’t Adam’s. So who the hell is in here with him? He pries open his eyes, squinting at the flame directly in front of them. He blinks and his vision begins to adjust. Why is there an oil lamp in front of his face? He pulls his head back, away from the light, trying to see around it, see who’s holding it.

“Glad you could join me, Sunshine.”

Michel standing over him in his own bedroom startles the hell out of Tommy. He stomach clenches and goes cold. He’s suddenly very awake. Adam’s side of the bed is empty. He tries acting nonchalant.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“Come on, outta bed,” Michel orders.

Tommy’s not one to just follow orders, but he’s got the feeling that being stubborn right now is a bad move. He slowly slides out of bed, quite aware that he’s naked. He has no choice but to stand in front of Michel without a stitch on.

“Fucked him anyway, huh?” Michel smirks. “Why am I not surprised. Get dressed.”

Tommy bends down and grabs his discarded clothes, putting them on as quickly as possible, and trying not to appear as freaked out as he really is.

“Where’s Adam?” he asks calmly.

Michel jerks a thumb over his shoulder.

“In the sitting room,” he replies. “We’re going to have a talk, the three of us.”

“I thought we already did,” Tommy says.

Michel barks out a humorless laugh. “I did most of the talking. You apparently didn’t listen. And Adam didn’t say a fucking word. I’m not happy with that.”

Tommy’s not sure what exactly Michel’s unhappy about, he had his say earlier, but he’s got the feeling this is going to turn out bad. He doesn’t know how Michel even got in here. Did Adam let him in? Why would he? Why are they rehashing Michel’s sordid tale in the middle of the night?

Michel steps aside and holds out his hand for Tommy to pass by him. Tommy notices the hard grip Michel has on the oil lamp and it makes him nervous. He really doesn’t want Michel at his back, but Adam’s waiting in the other room, so he rushes by and through the doorway. When he spies Adam on the floor, leaning against a chair and clutching his stomach, Tommy immediately goes to him. Adam is covered in sweat and the color has gone out of his face. Panic registers on his face when he looks up at Tommy.

“Adam, oh my god,” Tommy gasps, falling to his knees in front of him. “Are you sick?”

He sees the letter opener protruding from Adam’s stomach, and his fear skyrockets. He instinctively knows Michel is responsible. He reaches for the letter opener to pull it out.

“No,” Adam says through gritted teeth. “I’ll bleed out... leave it.”

Tommy’s heart lurches into his throat. What the hell are they going to do? How are they getting out of this? He turns to Michel, knowing it’s a longshot.

“We’ve got to get a doctor,” he says looking up at Michel. “Adam needs a doctor. He’s hurt.”

“I know he’s hurt. I’m the one who hurt him,” Michel states.

It’s a stupid question, and he’s just inviting a diatribe, but it may buy time and distraction, so Tommy asks why.

“Because he can’t have everything,” Michel explains. “He cannot just walk around having a perfect career, a perfect boyfriend, fame, money, no remorse, no guilt... it can’t work out that way. I won’t let it.”

Tommy really doesn’t know what to say. He looks back at Adam, whose breathing is shallow and he looks paler, if that’s even possible. There’s very little blood seeping from the wound, which is probably why Adam hasn’t pulled out the letter opener. He turns back to Michel.

“Can I get him some water?” Tommy asks.

“No,” Michel answers. “You’re not taking care of him. He doesn’t get that. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“You wanted to talk,” Tommy says, trying to get the conversation going and over with so he can get help for Adam. He’s also annoyed. “So talk.”

“Pretty feisty for someone in your position,” Michel comments. “That’s one of the things I like about you. But you’re right. See, I told Adam he had to choose between you and his career. I was going to take one or the other, and he could choose because I’m a thoughtful guy. And he refused. I tried to take you, that didn’t work at all.” Michel laughs almost maniacally. “I underestimated your relationship and I acted too fast, that was my fault. So I’m taking his career. He can’t sing those arias properly if his diaphragm isn’t perfect.”

Tommy looks back at Adam, the letter opener. He’s heard of castrati sabotaging one another by attacking and stabbing them in the throat. It’s a way to eliminate competition. Michel has done one better, though. Adam still has his throat, could still sing, but it’ll never be good enough again for the opera stage. If he lives.

“Come to think of it,” Michel continues. “You wouldn’t come with me, so I had no choice but to ruin Adam’s career. Tommy, this is really your fault, isn’t it?”

Tommy’s eyes meet Adam’s and he knows Adam can read what he’s thinking. Before he can open his mouth Adam is shaking his head.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy whispers.

“You didn’t do this,” Adam wheezes.

Tommy knows he’s not directly responsible, but if he’d known this was the alternative, he would’ve gone with Michel willingly. Anything to keep Adam’s career going. Adam had sacrificed too much for it to be stolen like this. Tommy takes deep breath and summons any courage he’s ever had. He turns to Michel.

“I’ll go with you,” he says. “I’ll do whatever you want, just leave Adam alone.”

“Well isn’t that sweet,” Michel states. “Too late, but a sweet gesture, nonetheless. Problem is, I’ve changed my mind. I said Adam could have one or the other. Well that offer has expired, and now he can’t have either.”

Chills run through Tommy. Adam’s wheezing is faster.

“Not Tommy,” Adam pleads with a whimper.

“What do you mean?” Tommy quietly asks Michel.

“Adam simply can’t have the same things he took from me,” Michel says. “I wanted you to leave him. And once you were gone, once you’d betrayed him, then he’d know how he made others feel. He needs to realize how it felt when he threw me away like some toy he was done playing with. I lost what I loved. Him. I lost my best friend, because of him. Because he plays with people. I lost my career, because of him. Now it’s his turn. That’s fair, don’t you think?”

Tommy really doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say to all this. It makes no sense except to a madman.

“Okay,” Tommy answers, his voice starting to rise in desperation. “I can leave, no problem. I’ll go now if you want.”

“No no no,” Michel says, shaking his head almost violently. “No, you had your chance earlier to walk out. Not so simple this time because you’ll just come back. I have to make sure you’re gone for good. Just like Niko is.”

Tommy’s insides clench in horror as he glances at the oil lamp Michel is still gripping.

“You’re gonna... burn... me?” He can’t believe he’s in any kind of situation where he has to ask this question at all.

“Fair is fair,” Michel affirms.

Tommy swallows hard. “But you’ll burn down the house. You’ll kill Adam, too. You want him to live, right?”

“Oh I’ll get Adam out, don’t worry,” Michel assures him. “He’ll be fine. And I’ll make sure he gets a doctor. I’ll even personally take care of him until he’s healed and better. Then we’ll work things out, he’ll see that this was all for him, for his own good. He’ll see that you weren’t the one for him, and then who knows.”

Michel smiles, and Tommy openly balks without realizing it. He’s starting to realize how fucking crazy this man is. Everything he’s done and is doing is geared towards getting Adam back.

“You think,” Tommy starts. “Adam is going to be with you after all this? After you ruin his career, and kill the only man he’s ever loved?”

“Tommy,” Adam warns.

But the absurdity of the argument is too much for Tommy and he continues.

“You think he wants you at all?” Tommy scoffs. “You’re fucking insane!”

“No, you’re just in the way, Tommy,” Michel says. “And you can’t see it. He’s been distracted. He’s always distracted. Once you’re gone, and this opera business is over with, he’ll realize who’s important.”

Tommy laughs. He doesn’t really mean to, but it just shoots out of him.

“You’ll never be who he wants,” Tommy says with a sneer. “Ever. It won’t matter if I’m dead or not, it will never be you that he wants. And you can’t change that.”

Michel’s face twists into rage. He’s quicker than Tommy expects, and he grabs a handful of Tommy’s hair, pulling him to his feet. The stinging in his scalp takes his breath away as his feet come off the ground. He feels Adam weakly grasp his shirt only to have it jerked out of reach.

“Get up, you fucking brat,” Michel yells.

Tommy can hear Adam trying to yell for this to stop, but too breathless to raise his voice. He imagines Adam is trying to get up, still clutching his wound. Shit, he should’ve kept his mouth shut.

Michel walks back to the bedroom, dragging Tommy like a rag doll. Tommy stumbles, his hands clutching Michel’s wrist, trying to ease the pain. Michel is spitting curses at him the whole way, but Tommy can’t hear them for the pain in his scalp. Michel flings him onto the bed. Tommy’s so lightweight that he hits the headboard with a bang. He gets to his hands and knees, looking up at Michel. Maybe he can bolt off the other side, although he has no idea how he’ll get past Michel to escape the room.

Without preliminaries, Michel throws the oil lamp directly above Tommy’s head. It hits the wall above him, shattering. Glass and oil and fire rain down on him. The fire spreads immediately when it lands, aided by the oil splattered throughout the room. The bed is burning. Tommy is crouched in the middle, the blankets and his shirt doused in oil. Smoke fills the room quickly, and it stings his eyes. Michel backs up, watching, a deadpan look on his face. Tommy knows he has to jump through, but Michel is likely going to push him back directly into the flames. He looks around wildly, glancing back at Michel who’s frozen in place, watching. Through the haze of heat and smoke, Tommy sees Adam stumble up behind Michel, holding the doorframe for support. He pulls the letter opener out of his stomach. Adam yanks back Michel’s head by his hair, and plunges the letter opener into his throat over and over. Tommy notices his shirt is on fire. It’s crawling up his side. He shrieks, flapping his arms, trying to put himself out. It’s scalding, and he can feel his skin start to blister. It’s reached his hair, his fringe, and he can smell it burning. He’s truly going to die like this.

A hand reaches through the flames and grabs his arm. He’s jerked off the bed and thrown to the floor. A body covers his, smothering the flames. Hands smack at his head, saving what’s left of his hair.

“I won’t lose you,” Adam chants. “I won’t lose you.”

The flames make their way out of the room, crawling along the walls and every available surface. Adam pulls Tommy up, cradling him to his side, and guides Tommy out of the bedroom. Tommy looks back to see the flames beginning to crawl over Michel’s body, the letter opener jutting up from his mangled throat. He looks away. He focuses on his feet, so he won’t see the horror building around him. They make it to the door, and Adam starts coughing violently. Tommy sees blood pouring down his front from the wound. It’s no longer plugged by the letter opener, so it’s bleeding freely. Adam bends over, coughing, spitting blood. It’s Tommy’s turn to guide. He hooks an arm around Adam’s waist and he pulls them through the front door and out to the street.

The air is cool, and it feels so soothing on Tommy’s hot skin. He wonders how bad are the burns? Will Adam be okay? People are coming out of their houses and rushing to them, ushering them to the other side of the street, away from the burning house. The house will burn down. There’s on way to stop it now. The only thing to do is douse the adjacent houses with as much water as possible and hope the fire doesn’t spread.

Adam collapses to the ground, wheezing worse than before, blood on his chin. Someone presses a rag over the wound in his stomach. Tommy cradles his head, terrified that these are their last moments. Adam gazes up at Tommy. He tries to smile.

“I told you,” he gasps out. “That I would run to you.”

Tommy’s resolve breaks, the weight of everything that’s happened settling over him, and he weeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost over, so bear with the cliffhangers. Besides, if every chapter was always neatly wrapped up, why would you keep reading? ;) Thanks for hanging in!


	9. What Goes Up Must Come Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the fire...

Tommy lays on his side, watching Adam in the next bed. He watches Adam’s chest rise and fall, his face twitch, his hands flinch with spasms of pain as he sleeps. They’re in the city hospital, where they were brought after the fire burned down the house. Adam was put under immediately with chloroform and the doctor blotted and stitched his wound. Tommy brushed off all attempts to tend to his burns until Adam’s surgery was over. He had to make sure Adam was okay first. He managed to scribble a note with their whereabouts and had it sent to Durante.

When Adam’s surgery was over and the doctor turned to him, Tommy asked if Adam would be okay.

“Time will tell,” the doctor replied, and suddenly Tommy felt very alone.

His burns, as it turned out, were second degree. Tommy looked at his skin while the nurse was cleaning the areas and applying salve. His arm got the worst of it. The skin was an angry red color with white blisters everywhere. The cool salve forced the heat out of the burns and Tommy shivered, cold and hot at the same time. Once his arm was bandaged, he could feel the heat rising off his skin but blocked from escaping by the bandages. It was uncomfortable. If Adam hadn’t put him out when he did, it would’ve been much worse. His hair was singed short, and the nurse cut off the burned ends, leaving as much of his hair as she could. His scalp was red, but all in all okay. He was lucky. And his hair would grow back.

Tommy lets his gaze drift through the hospital. It was really just a big room for all patients, everyone housed together. Surgeries were done in here, everything was done in here. There was no privacy. Every sound echoed, every smell permeated the corners, and germs spread like wildfire. It was miserable. But where else could they’ve gone? They needed immediate attention.

After things calmed down, Tommy was given a careworn shirt to wear since his was destroyed. He doesn’t like it; it’s scratchy and smells of moth balls. Tommy looks back at Adam. He wants very much to lie in the bed next to him. He needs the touch, the body heat for reassurance, comfort. He settles his head back on the pillow, eyes wide open and fixed on Adam, resuming his watch. He’s exhausted, yet wired with adrenaline. He doesn’t think he’ll ever sleep again, but before he knows it, he’s drifted into a twilight sleep, not really asleep but not really awake, just in between. His mind needs a break from reality. He’s startled awake to the sound of Durante’s voice as the man charges into the room.

“Dove si trova?” the maestro asks, his tone troubled. “Where is he? Tommy?”

Tommy lifts his head and sits up. Durante spots him and nearly runs to him.

“What happened?” Durante demands. “Are you alright? Why are you here? Adam?”

He sees Adam in the next bed, still unconscious.

“What happened?” Durante asks again, and Tommy gives him a short version. There will be time later for the an depth explanation, but he’s tired and he wants to go home.

Durante hails for the doctor like he’s hailing for a waiter.

“I need these two moved to the carriage,” he tells the doctor. “Right away.”

“Signore, they should not be moved,” the doctor says. “Especially this one.” He points to Adam.

“Well they’re not staying here,” Durante says. “I have a personal physician, he will attend to them. They need privacy, quiet, seclusion. They’re coming with me, right now.” He turns to the porter and snaps his finger, pointing to Adam. “Right now. We’re moving him to the carriage.”

The porter obeys and goes to Adam. Tommy climbs out of bed, his energy returning in a burst, eager to help carry Adam out and leave. He helps the porter carry Adam outside and into the carriage while Durante drills the doctor about exactly what procedures were done and any medications given. Tommy settles in the carriage next to Adam, finally able to hold his hand. His skin feels feverish and Tommy hopes it’s temporary. When Durante climbs in the carriage takes off immediately.

They speak little on the way. Durante removes his coat and covers Adam’s bare torso. Tommy’s so tired his eyes are crossing. It seems like they’ll never reach the conservatory. He leans his head on Adam’s shoulder, trying not to doze, but the rocking of the carriage, the feel of Durante’s coat on his cheek are soothing and safe. He closes his eyes. He’s jerked awake when the carriage stops. Durante flings the door open, and he and the porter carry Adam inside and upstairs to Tommy’s room. Though he and Adam left several years ago, Durante never let anyone else occupy this room. It’s Tommy’s now and whenever he needs it, it’ll be there.

They settle Adam on the bed. Tommy straightens the blankets and positions the pillows while the porter lights a fire.

“Will the fire bother you?” Durante asks.

Tommy shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Besides, it’s cold in here.”

“Si,” Durante replies. “We’ll talk in tomorrow, of course, but I want you to sleep. Don’t sit up all night watching over Adam.”

“But he doesn’t look well,” Tommy says quietly, afraid that Adam might hear him. “His skin is damp and...the color doesn’t look right.”

Durante lights the candle next to the bed and holds it to Adam’s face. He touches Adam’s cheeks and puts his fingers against Adam’s neck. He turns to the porter and tells him to summon the doctor and explain the situation. Tommy can feel panic rise.

“Is he okay?” he asks. He can feel tears forming as though he already knows Adam’s not alright.

Durante gently places a hand on his unbandaged arm.

“His color is a little too gray,” Durante tells him. “I think Dr Norhaven should check to make sure that hospital did the surgical procedure correctly.” He sighs in exasperation. “I’m grateful they were there to attend to you, but god knows those places have an affinity for simply amputating whatever is ailing you rather than treating it properly. We’re lucky you both still have your heads attached.”

Tommy nods, looking back at Adam.

“Tommy,” Durante says, getting his attention. “He will be okay. You are okay. You’re home, and you’ll both be well cared for, so don’t worry.”

Tommy gives him a tired smile. Durante always does everything in his power to keep Tommy safe and that extends to Adam as well. He puts his arms around Durante, just grateful he’s not alone. Durante hugs him back, mindful of his burns.

“I want these burns looked at too,” Durante says, turning over Tommy’s arm and eyeing the bandages. “And when the doctor leaves, I want you in bed, sleeping. Understand?”

“Yes, Maestro,” Tommy agrees.

When Dr Norhaven and his assistant arrive, he frowns over Adam. He pulls off the bandage covering his wound and examines it, shaking his head. He tells Durante’s porter what he needs and then opens his bag and begins removing instruments. His assistant wordlessly lays out a clean, white cloth on the bedside table.

“When your porter told me what type of injury it was and what the hospital had done, I figured I should bring these,” he says, laying them on the cloth. He pulls out a bottle of chloroform. The assistant places a smaller piece of cloth over Adam’s mouth and nose, and dribbles two drops of chloroform onto it. “That should keep him out for a while.”

“What are you doing?” Tommy asks, panicking when he sees the knife on the table. “What is he doing?”

“Tommy, it’s alright,” Durante says soothingly. He steps into Tommy’s line of vision, blocking him from Adam. “Dr Norhaven needs to check something, that’s all.”

“You said he would be okay,” Tommy nearly shouts. “You said he was okay!”

“Stop,” Durante says sternly, and Tommy falls silent. Durante continues calmly. “The procedure the hospital did needs to be checked more thoroughly. Adam is okay right now, and we’re making sure he stays that way. Capire?”

Tommy nods, although he really doesn’t understand. He just knows that someone is going to cut into Adam again.

“There’s nothing to fear, child,” Durante says. “Dr Norhaven is skilled and knows what he’s doing. Trust me. He’s attended you both before. Now we need to leave the room so the doctor can do what he needs to do. Yes? We will go to the library and we’ll wait.”

Tommy can’t say or do anything other than nod, and allow Durante to lead him out of the room.

 

“Tell me what happened,” Durante says after getting Tommy settled on the sofa with tea and a blanket.

Tommy gives him all the details this time. He doesn’t hold back.

“And Michel is dead, you’re sure?” Durante asks.

Tommy nods. “He was.... on fire when we got out. He wasn’t moving. The letter opener was sticking out of his throat.” Tommy’s voice trails off. The image will haunt him the rest of his days.

Durante looks thoughtful.

“Do you think they’ll find him?” Tommy asks. Self defense or not, he doesn’t want Adam accused of murder and arrested.

“Probably,” Durante replies. “When they sift through the ashes, I imagine they’ll find something of him.”

“Will Adam go to jail?” Tommy asks in a whisper.

“No,” Durante assures him. “I will make sure of that. Trust me.”

Tommy does trust him. After all, Durante took vicious care of the three that attacked him, and no one’s heard from any of them since. Tommy’s never asked what was done with them after he left and Durante hasn’t offered the information. They simply act as though it never happened. But Tommy knows Durante is true to his word no matter what he has to do to keep it. He’s proven that he’ll do whatever necessary to keep Tommy and Adam safe.

The sky is changing, getting lighter, the sun is coming up. Weariness settles over Tommy. It’s been the longest and most harrowing night. But daylight is coming in a slow fold of colors, and it’s lovely. He can’t remember the last time he saw a sunrise.

“Maybe you should lie down,” Durante suggests, and Tommy realizes he’s been staring out the window without seeing anything, his brain completely checked out.

Tommy shakes his head, waking himself up again.

“I need to be awake when they’re finished with Adam,” he says.

“Of course,” Durante replies, smiling.

“Will he sing again?” Tommy asks.

“Well, I’m not sure,” Durante says. “But in opera, it’s not likely. The diaphragm has been punctured, and though it’ll heal, there will likely be scar tissue, which will hinder the purity of the voice, the breath.”

Tommy slumps. What will Adam do without his career? This is it? Over in a flash because of a jealous, deranged ex-lover? How is this fair? And what will Tommy do? He can’t see himself writing for other castrati and not Adam. He simply couldn’t do it. He dreads Adam finding out that he won’t sing opera anymore.

“Let’s not worry about that before it’s time,” Durante advises. “Let’s get through tonight, through this ordeal first. Then we’ll worry about the future.”

Tommy nods. It’s good advice, but he’s going to worry nonetheless. And it’s likely to cross Adam’s mind as well. Tommy feels like he should already have an answer for Adam when he wakes up.

The library door opens and Dr Norhaven and his assistant come in. The assistant is carrying a basin of water and a stack of folded cloth. Tommy looks anxiously at them. The assistant sits next to Tommy and begins unwrapping his bandages.

“As I suspected, the hospital did not suture the wound properly,” Norhaven started. “He was bleeding internally. Good eye, Tommy, seeing that his color was off. He was slowly bleeding to death inside.”

Tommy shudders, feeling sick. Adam could’ve died overnight if they’d stayed at that hospital.

“I removed their sutures, cleaned the wound thoroughly, and put in closer, tighter sutures in the diaphragm. Then I sutured the outside wound. He’s still asleep, will be for a while. He needs the rest, though. He’s lost quite a bit of blood.”

Once Tommy’s bandages are removed, the assistant rises and Norhaven examines him. Tommy removes his shirt so he can see the burns on his side as well. The doctor cleans the burns with water and antiseptic from the basin, then rubs another salve over them.

“I’m leaving these blisters uncovered for now,” he says. “The skin needs to breathe and the heat needs to escape. Keep reapplying the salve, bandage them later. Do not scratch or rub the areas. We don’t want infection setting in.”

“Will Adam sing again?” Tommy asks him in a hushed tone.

Norhaven sighs. “He might sing opera again, maybe, but not at the level he was before this. I’m sorry. But he’s alive, and he’ll be okay. That’s worth more, in my opinion.”

Tommy nods, his head hanging low. He feels awful for Adam. And will Tommy be the one to break it to him? He can’t stand the thought, telling Adam it’s over, the look on his face...

“Tommy, why don’t you go on up to bed,” Durante suggests. “It’s very early, you’ve been up all night under traumatic circumstances. You need sleep. I’ll send Mrs Fiore up later with food.”

Tommy rises, pulling the blanket with him. He shuffles his feet along the floor. He feels a hand on his shoulder, stopping him, and he turns around. Durante smiles down at him, pulling him close. Tommy leans into the embrace.

“All things end sometime,” Durante says quietly. “And sometimes it’s for the best. It will work out.”

He places a light kiss on Tommy’s forehead, and Tommy gives him a genuine, albeit exhausted, smile. He turns and walks through the silent corridor and up the stairs. He opens the door to his room, his gaze going to Adam. He shuts the door and moves closer. Adam’s breathing is even, calmer, and he’s no longer twitching in pain. Tommy’s relieved and he carefully climbs in next to him. He lays close to Adam, his head on his shoulder. He scrutinizes Adam’s skin color and breathing once more, and when he’s satisfied, he kisses Adam’s bare shoulder, and falls asleep.


	10. Always Live In the Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam recovers. Tommy finds a new hobby.

_It’s so hard to think this could fade away. But what goes up must come down. Why can’t we just live life with no consequence? And always live in the now._

               

Tommy sits in the chair by the window. He alternates from watching over Adam asleep in the bed to examining the guitar lying across his lap. It’s been two weeks since the fire. Adam developed a small infection from the hospital’s less than hygienic surgery. It didn’t develop very far thanks to Dr Norhaven fixing the sutures and immediately starting medication to head off any infection. Adam’s fever disappeared quickly, but he’s still weak from blood loss and sleeps a lot.

Durante has ushered Tommy out of the bedroom every day, insistent that he not sit in the corner and watch Adam like a deranged hawk. Adam was perfectly safe and not going anywhere. He practically kicks Tommy outside every day to get fresh air and clear his mind, and Tommy wanders through the canal shops, smiling to himself at how much like a father Durante is to him.  He’d wandered into a new shop that sold music instruments and was looking at the string instruments when he heard a familiar voice.

“My darling Tommy Boy!” it cried.

Tommy turned around and was swept off his feet by Sutan into a crushing hug. Tommy squeezed out a laugh. He hasn’t seen Sutan in years. Sutan had gone to Spain to sing opera and he stayed there during off seasons. Tommy had no idea he was back in Italy.

“When did you get back?” he asked once Sutan freed him.

“Last week, caro,” Sutan told him. “I was going to hunt you down once I got settled. Tell me, how are things with you and Adam? I hear he’s quite the sought after castrato, and you, my darling, are a brilliant writer.”

Tommy blushed. Compliments make him uncomfortable, even coming from someone he knows.

“I’m alright,” he said.

“Too modest,” Sutan snorted. “Where is Adam? He’s usually not far from you, and I don’t see him.”

Tommy stiffened slightly. “He’s at the conservatory. I was just out, looking around...”

Sutan hummed an affirmation. “There’s a story I need to hear, obviously, and I will hear it, mio caro, but at a more appropriate time. Now tell me, are you buying an instrument? Do you play?”

“Oh no,” Tommy shook his head. “I don’t play anything, I was just looking. I couldn’t play an instrument.”

“Nonsenso,” Sutan said, flipping his hand in a dismissive wave. “You can do anything you set your mind to, I know it. You should pick out one of these and give it a go.”

Tommy shrugged, looking back at the displays of string instruments.

“Which one of these excites you?” Sutan asked. “Calls to you?”

Tommy considered each one, if he can see it in his hands, see himself playing it. He paused on the guitar. It had a long neck, six strings, a hole in the middle of the wide body for sound. He could hold on to that one. Hell, he could hug it if he wanted.

“Nice choice,” Sutan said, pulling it down from its display and handing it to him. “These are mainly used in quartets, but I see it breaking out as a stand alone instrument someday.”

Tommy turned it over in his hands, feeling its weight, its contours. He pulled his fingers over the strings, and he laughed at the sound it made.

Sutan laughed with him. “Ah si, we’ve found your instrument.”

Tommy looks back down at the guitar. When he’d come back with it, Durante promptly contacted a tutor to instruct him on how to play. Tommy fell in love with it. It was one thing to write the music, it was quite another to make it come alive. Now he understands the high Adam feels when he sings. It’s exhilarating, freeing, and he can’t wait to hear what Adam thinks. He’s been waiting until he masters the strings and notes. He wants to dazzle Adam although he knows he’s too impatient to wait as long as that will take. He’s learned a few chords and he’s practiced them, picking them up quickly, putting them together. It seems to come naturally to him. He strums over the strings, looking back at Adam as the notes vibrate. He smiles when Adam stirs, and plucks the strings again, watching Adam wake. Adam snuffles, tilts his head against the pillow, and tries to stretch. He winces when he stretches too far for the stitches in his stomach. He opens his eyes and looks around, settling his gaze on Tommy seated across the room, and smiles.

“What have you got, amore?” His voice hoarse with sleep.

Tommy strums the instrument. “A guitar.”

Adam blinks, waking up fully. “You’re playing an instrument? Let me hear.”

“I’m not that good yet,” Tommy says, ducking his head.

“I don’t believe that,” Adam says. “Play what you know. I guarantee you’ve already mastered whatever you know.”

Tommy places his fingers on the right strings and plays the chords he’s learned, giddy over sharing this with Adam.

“Bravo!” Adam praises, and Tommy’s smile widen and he feels his cheeks growing hot. Blushing is so annoying. “How long have you been doing this? Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Not too long,” Tommy tells him. “You’ve been recovering and sleeping a lot. And I wanted to have something for you to hear when I told you. What do you think?”

“I think you’ve found your true calling,” Adam says.

Tommy smiles, almost bursting with pride and excitement. Then he remembers - Adam’s calling is over. And he doesn’t know yet. His smile falls. Adam notices and frowns. Tommy looks down. He opens his mouth to tell Adam there’s something he should know, but the door opens. Durante has impeccable timing and Tommy wonders if he was listening outside the door.

“Tommy, would you mind stepping into the hall for a moment?” Durante asks, smiling. “I need to ask you something.”

“Sure,” Tommy says quietly, glancing at Adam. Setting down the guitar next to the chair, he goes into the hall.

Durante closes the door and turns to him.

“Have you told Adam yet?” Durante asks.

Tommy had said he would tell Adam that opera was no longer an option, had insisted he would be the one to break it to him, but every time he opened his mouth to do so the words failed him. He just has no clue how to tell Adam something so delicate and life altering.

“No,” he replies. “I don’t know how.”

“I don’t mind doing it,” Durante tells him. “I know the bond between you, but you do not have to be the one to break this to him. Besides, I have a bit of news that may make it a little more tolerable for him.”

“What news?” Tommy asks.

“The pope has lifted the ban on women singing in opera,” Durante says with a sad smile. “Which means less demand for castrati. Women will cost less than castrati. There will be no more castrations of young boys because women will be taking over the castrati roles in opera. Even though their pitch level isn’t quite the same, it’s close enough, especially when paying a woman will be far less than what you pay for a castrato for the same role. And training for those already cut will be almost pointless. I’m afraid the castrati era is coming to an end. For all of us.”

While elated that children will no longer be butchered, he feels sorrow for those who were cut for this very purpose and now it’s gone. With just the decree of one man. It’s truly ending. He wonders how Adam will feel. Will this make a difference in his reaction?

“If you’d like I can tell Adam everything,” Durante offers. “You don’t have to be the bearer of all the bad tidings, I can do it. You should be present, though.”

Tommy nods. He wonders if Adam’s already guessed his opera career is over, but maybe Durante, someone with that same castrati link, is the better choice to relay all this news. Durante gives Tommy’s shoulder a squeeze, and opens the door.

“Well this can’t be good,” Adam states as they stand beside the bed. He’s pulled himself into a sitting position, propped against thick pillows.

Durante relays news of the pope’s decision. Tommy watches Adam carefully. He feels on edge and he can’t imagine how Adam feels. Adam’s face reveals nothing as Durante speaks. His expression remains stoic as Durante tells him that the wound in his diaphragm would most likely hinder his career anyway. When Durante stops speaking, Adam looks away. He stares straight ahead, lost in thought. Durante turns to Tommy.

“I’m going to leave you two now,” he says. “I’m downstairs if you need me.”

Once he’s left and shut the door behind him, Tommy looks back at Adam, who is still silent, his brow furrowed in thought. He doesn’t seem aware of Tommy, and Tommy doesn’t know what to do. He fidgets on his feet and twists his fingers. Feeling like a dolt just standing there he sits on the edge of the bed. He has no idea what to say. Maybe he shouldn’t say anything at all. He’s surprised when Adam reaches over and takes his hand. Tommy squeezes Adam’s hand. He may not know what to say, but he can assure Adam he’s still here. 

“It’s not a complete surprise,” Adam says quietly, still not looking at him. “But actually hearing it.... well, it’s a reality now no matter what.”

“I’m so sorry,” Tommy whispers. And he means it. He knows Adam’s heart is broken and he can’t do anything to help.

Adam smiles sadly. “Grazie.” He inhales deeply and lets it out slowly. A measured breath. “I’d like to be alone just now. Would you mind?”

“Anything you want,” Tommy tells him. “Of course, all the time you need. I’ll be downstairs.”

Adam lets go of his hand and looks down at his lap. Suddenly feeling awkward, Tommy gets up and leaves the room, closing the door carefully behind him. He sees Sutan talking to Durante when he gets downstairs.

“How’s he taking it?” Durante asks.

Tommy shrugs. “He wants to be alone?”

Durante nods. “It’ll take time.”

“What about you?” Tommy asks Sutan. “What are you going to do now?”

“Oh honey, I will be fine,” Sutan states. “I’m looking into going to America. Theater is big there. I can act, I can do stage makeup and costume design. I’ll be fine.” He laughs. “Maybe I’ll start dressing like a woman and upstage all those femmine.”

“America?” Tommy’s never given thought to leaving the continent. Maybe they should. Theater is popular there? “What kind of theater?” he asks.

“Oh all kinds,” Sutan says, becoming animated. “All kinds, caro. Acting, musical, dance, it’s all experimental and from what I’ve heard it’s exciting. I have a friend who moved there last year to New York and she loves it. That’s where I’m headed, to start anyway. Who knows where it could lead? Maybe you and Adam should consider it, too.”

Tommy nods, his mind flying around thoughts of America and what it must be like there, what the theater must be like. What are the people like? Could they fit in there? Could they be happy there?

When he goes to check on Adam, he jogs up the stairs, feeling excited. Theater in America. It’s a new prospect and from what Sutan says it’s taking off. They could at least visit and see what it’s about. He walks into the bedroom and sees Adam lying back, staring out the window.

“How are you?” he asks.

Adam shrugs, still looking out the window. “I don’t really know how to feel about it all.”

Tommy nods but it’s really to himself since Adam’s not looking at him.

“Well, how would you feel about a trip?” he asks. When Adam says nothing, he continues. “It might help. New scenery, new people, it would be fun.”

“Yes, it might help,” Adam agrees.

Tommy smiles. He’s about to suggest America when Adam says, “I want to go see my parents.”

 

 

                               


	11. I Don’t Need a Map to Tell Me Where I’m At

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End <3

The carriage bumps and jerks over the rocky roadway. Adam stares out of the window. They’re on their way to see his parents. He doesn’t really know how to feel about it. He hasn’t seen them since he was eleven. Right after he’d been cut, they sent him off to live in a conservatory. As far as he knew, they’d never been to one of his performances. He’s gotten letters from them over the years, sure, but eventually the words became meaningless. Tommy’s the only one who even reads them now.

He glances over at Tommy who has his nose buried in a newspaper. Tommy’s become obsessed with going to America and getting into musical theater there. He’s become quite good with the guitar, picking up rhythms and notes easily, even putting together his own combinations. Adam’s not surprised at his talent, and he’s proud of Tommy. He also knows that Tommy’s trying to find a way for Adam to cope with the looming end of the castrati era. Adam looks back out the carriage window. He feels guilty. And helpless. It’s not Tommy’s job to find an alternative career for him. Adam has no clue what’s in store for him now, but he needs to figure it out for himself.

“They’ve got electricity in the more popular playhouses,” Tommy informs him. “That’s what they’re calling them over there, playhouses. Wow, electric lights.”

Adam doesn’t reply.

“They’ve come up with copyright laws, whatever those are,” Tommy murmurs. “Musical theater does spoken dialogue as well as singing, acting, dancing, you can do anything.”

Adam says nothing.

“It overlaps with opera, too,” Tommy continues. “Except there’s more spoken dialogue in musicals than opera. You’d have more freedom in your music, which you’d probably enjoy.”

Adam loves Tommy with all of his heart, and he appreciates the care and concern, but he kind of wishes Tommy would shut up. He’s not ready to jump into something completely new and different, and in a completely new and different country with which they have no ties or connections. Tommy is also not the one with a fading career. In fact, Tommy’s found a new headway into music and Adam’s sure he’s going to be brilliant. Maybe he’s just a little jealous of that. Adam was bred for this one thing, which is now over. He just can’t get excited about other prospects yet. What if he’s no good at anything else?

“What are you reading?” Adam sighs his question.

“It’s a theater newspaper from America,” Tommy announces.

“And where did you get that?” he asks, failing to keep the annoyance out of his tone, but Tommy doesn’t notice anyway.

“Sutan sent it to me,” he replies. “He says it’s amazing there. So different from Italy or anywhere in Europe. He says we’ll love it. He’s finding all kinds of roles in theater there.”

Adam hums and sighs heavily. He’s already tired of hearing what Sutan has been doing.

“They do operatic productions but treat them more as musicals,” Tommy continues. “I guess that means they add in acting and dialogue, which you’d be amazing at, I know it.”

He doesn’t want to snap at Tommy, but he’s really stressed about the pope’s decision and that he’s about to face his parents for the first time since he was a child. And Tommy’s been talking almost non-stop since they left the conservatory. Adam feels energy being sucked out of him faster than usual since the Michel incident and now the pope’s decision. His world is changing too much too fast and he can’t seem to regroup and keep up.

“I think I’ll just take a nap,” he says. He knows Tommy will stop talking if he’s trying to sleep.

“Do you feel okay?” Tommy asks, turning to him.

Tommy’s concern soothes his annoyance and Adam smiles.

“I’m okay,” he says. “Just a little tired.”

Tommy nods. “Okay, just rest then. Don’t tire yourself.”

He reaches over and squeezes Tommy’s arm, then leans his head back and closes his eyes. He is tired actually. His wound has been healing well over the weeks, but he tires easily some days. Durante refused to let them take this trip until Dr Norhaven deemed him fit enough to travel. The doctor is pleased with Adam’s recovery and sure that he’ll be fine. Tommy’s burns are healing nicely, too. The blisters are gone, the skin isn’t so scalding red anymore, although Tommy says the areas are very dry and itch quite a lot. He keeps them covered in salve so he doesn’t scratch them, but they’re healed enough that he no longer needs bandages to protect the skin, and scarring should be minimal if there’s any at all. Adam is beyond grateful for that. Tommy should never have to pay for Adam’s past mistakes.   

Authorities did come to the conservatory to inquire about the fire and the injuries sustained. Adam and Tommy were truthful. They had nothing to hide. Except Michel’s murder, maybe. That small part wasn’t mentioned under Durante’s direct order when they found out the authorities were coming by. Adam and Tommy admitted that Michel was a jealous castrato and tried to kill them both by stabbing Adam and setting fire to their place, but that was all they knew. Castrati injuring one another to eliminate competition or for just plain revenge was common, so the explanation was perfectly acceptable. Adam nonchalantly asked if they knew what had happened to Michel. The constable replied that they hadn’t found Michel yet and assumed he was on the run, but they were searching so they could bring him to up on charges if Adam and Tommy wished to prosecute. Adam and Tommy said nothing else. Once the authorities had left, they both looked to Durante, who shrugged and casually said, “People disappear all the time.” They concluded that Durante had taken care of any evidence of Michel’s body, and the incident hasn’t been spoken of since by any of them. Adam has no idea how he’ll ever repay Maestro Durante for this.

The sun on his face is warm and calming, and with the rocking of the carriage, Adam easily drifts off. He doesn’t wake until Tommy gently shakes him.

“Adam, I think we’re here,” he says.

Adam opens his eyes, feeling groggy from the sun and sleep. He looks around. His parents still live in the same house. They didn’t even move after he started making money and they began receiving compensation. Though he grew up here, he barely recognizes this place. Tommy pulls out the last letter from his parents and confirms the address, although Adam knows this is the place. He sits up, suddenly apprehensive. This is it.

Tommy looks back at him. “Nervous?”

Adam nods.

“They’re gonna be happy to see you,” Tommy assures him. “I’m sure they’ve missed you.”

Adam gives him a small smile. Tommy opens the carriage door and hops out, looking back and waiting for Adam. He gets out slowly, his eyes glued to the front door. He has no idea how he’ll be received by his parents or even how he will react. He’s been angry with them since that night. He still sees the entire incident as pain and betrayal on their part. Betrayal. For money. Adam hardens himself and marches to the door.

When the door opens, he barely recognizes his mother. She is, of course, much older than when he last saw her. The years have been kind to her, but she’s aged. She’s still lovely as ever.

“Mio figlio!” she cries, darting forth and embracing Adam.

She releases him and stands back to look at him. Adam stands still, in shock.

“You’ve grown so,” she says, her face beaming.

She’s truly happy to see him. For some reason this doesn’t make Adam happy. In fact, it makes him angrier. He’s spent all these years locked away in cold, dreary conservatories, having high expectations drilled into him so much so that he turned off all feeling inside, being told by those outside the conservatory that he was inhuman, and his mother is happy? He stares at her as she warmly embraces Tommy. They’ve become rather familiar since Tommy is the one who’s been answering the letters.

His mom ushers them inside, and his father is waiting in the foyer. He, too, has aged, but still youthful. Adam feels strange seeing them. They didn’t have gray hair and lines on their faces when he last saw them. His father embraces him as well, clearly delighted to have his son home. Adam doesn’t say anything, barely returning the hug. He looks around, his childhood coming back to him. Memories of playing on the floor, tumbling down the stairs, climbing the iron railings almost make him smile. As their things are brought in, his mother asks that they be brought up to the guest rooms.

“Room,” Adam states crisply. “We only need one room.”

His parents pause, looking between them. Tommy blanches.

“It’s okay,” Tommy whispers to him. “This is not the time.”

“It’s as good a time as any,” Adam tells him, then announces. “We’ll be sharing one room, one bed.”

His mother puts a hand to her chest. “Oh my,” she says. “Of course, how thoughtless of me. I didn’t want to just assume...”

“No harm,” his father says, laughing a little to lighten the awkward mood. “We got the idea you two were a couple, but we didn’t want to presume your relationship, so we made up both rooms just in case. Of course, your things will be taken to one room, then.”

Adam stares at them as though they’re aliens.

“We’re lovers,” he states. “You realize that, right?”

“Yes,” his father answers. He’s still smiling but looks confused.

“You’re okay with that?” Adam asks.

“Should we not be?” his father asks.

“It’s illegal,” Adam reminds him.

“I see no constable here,” his father replies. “Do you?”

Adam can’t find his voice, so he just shakes his head, and looks at Tommy who shrugs.

“You’ve got to be tired from that ride out here,” his mom says. “Go on up and rest, change, bathe. Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Thank you,” Tommy replies when Adam doesn’t. He takes Adam’s arm, pulling his attention back to the present. Adam leads the way upstairs.

“Are you alright?” Tommy asks once they’re in the guest room and the door is shut.

Adam sits down on the bed.

“It’s just strange,” he says. “Being back here. I recognize those people downstairs, but I don’t know them. If that makes sense.”

“Give it time,” Tommy tells him, opening the wardrobe doors and table drawers, generally being nosey. He’s always been as curious as a cat. “You’ve been away from here and out of touch with them for a while. You just need to get reacquainted.”

“They’re not acting like I thought they would,” Adam says.

“How did you think they’d act?” Tommy asks. “Shocked? Screaming? Throw you out, shouting hellfire down on you?”

Adam shrugs. “I don’t know. How about guilty? Regretful?”

Tommy kneels down in front of Adam.

“Don’t go looking for bad reactions, Adam,” he says. “You’ll just end up creating them when you can’t find them. And that will be on you, not them. They didn’t let you in to scorn you or hate you or throw you out.”

“Shouldn’t they feel remorseful, Tommy?” he asks. “They set me on this path with brutality. They betrayed the trust of their own child.”

“That is something you need to work out, baby,” Tommy replies. “You need this, you need the peace. And to get that, you’re gonna have to talk to them. And without being defensive.”

“I don’t get defensive,” Adam frowns.

“Of course not,” Tommy teases, getting up. “I have you confused with someone else who looks and sounds exactly like you.”

Adam swats his ass and Tommy jumps out of the way, laughing. He’s glad Tommy’s here.

 

Dinner is uneventful yet uncomfortable. His parents make small talk, and Adam answers out of politeness, but his answers are short. Tommy’s conversation is lengthier, but he takes his cue from Adam and doesn’t talk too much. When dinner is over and the table cleared, Tommy stretches and yawns. Adam can tell it’s a fake yawn.

“That trip wore me out,” Tommy states. “Think I’ll go on up and go to bed.”

They bid Tommy goodnight, and Tommy pinches Adam’s arm on his way past, tilting his head back, indicating this is his time to talk out his issues. Adam wraps an arm around him and kisses his temple, before Tommy scoots out of reach. He turns back to his parents, who are looking anxiously at him. Adam doesn’t even know what to say, where to start.

“We’ve missed you,” his mom starts.

Adam clears his throat, looking away. “Yeah.”

“Why haven’t you written?” she asks. “Have we done something wrong?”

Adam looks back at them. “Have you done something wrong?” A scornful laugh escapes him. “You had me butchered at eleven years old, and you want to know if you’ve done something wrong?”

“Butchered?” she asks.

“Yes, butchered,” Adam repeats. “What did you think that was?”

She shrugs and says weakly, “It was a surgical procedure.”

“That was no surgery,” he snaps. “That was mutilation, nothing else.”

“Oh god,” she moans. “I knew that wasn’t the best decision, I just knew it.”

She sits down, her head in her hands.

“We thought we were doing the best thing for you,” his dad explains, stepping forward. “We thought it was what you wanted.”

“Why the hell would anyone want part of their body cut off?” Adam practically yells. “You brought over a barber, not a doctor, a barber to cut off my balls and you thought I wanted that? Do you hear yourself?”

His anger is surfacing, his frustration, his pain. How can they not realize he hadn’t wanted that at all. No child would.

“You said you wanted to sing,” his father said. “We told you that you had a short window of opportunity to make your voice as it was permanent. You said yes.”

“You didn’t tell me what that meant!” Adam shouts. “Do you even realize how painful it was? I passed out from it! I was terrified!”

“We knew there would be pain, but you were drugged and we figured you wouldn’t remember it in time,” his father said.

“Oh my god,” Adam states, tears coming to his eyes. “How could I forget? I was never allowed to forget. Do you know what people call me? Do you have any idea how those not paying for my voice hate me? Do you have any idea how those who do pay for my voice use me?”

His parents say nothing. Adam trembles with anger.

“Do you have any idea how I hated myself?” he asks. “I was taught to shun others, to think only of myself, so I did. You wanna know why I didn’t write? I hated you, that’s why. I hated you, I hated me. And there was no point in writing, in bonding, in any of it. You betrayed me, then sold me.”

“Sold you?” His mother looks up, and his father looks shocked. “We didn’t sell you.”

“You’ve been paid well enough for it over the years, I know that,” Adam yells.

“It wasn’t about money,” she says. “It was never about money for us.”

Adam snorts. “Well you took your share, you’ve been paid, that’s all I know. And when Durante renegotiated my contract, you took a bigger share.”

“We haven’t spent that money,” his father says.

Adam stares at him. “What do you mean you haven’t spent that money?”

“Look around you, son,” he gestures. “Has anything changed here? We live in the same house we were in when you were a child. Do you see extravagance? We didn’t spend anything that was given to us from your career.”

“I don’t understand,” Adam says. “What did you do with it?”

“Saved it,” his father tells him. “For you.”

“Me?” he asks, confused.

“Yes,” his father says. “You earned it. It’s yours.”

“But,” Adam starts. “It was given to you as your payment.”

“Well, yes, but we never intended it to be ours,” his father says. “We wanted you to have something to fall back on in case something happened. We never spent any of it.”

“Nobody told me that,” Adam says.

“Do you think if we’d told Verdi that we were going to give back to you the money you earned that he would’ve given us anything?” his father asks.

No, he wouldn’t have, Adam thinks. Verdi would’ve given his parents a small fraction of what they were owed for him if he knew they were just going to give it back to Adam in time. Verdi would’ve cheated them all, thinking them simple and foolish, and kept a larger cut for himself.

Adam can feel his anger abating somewhat. He’s always been under the impression that his parents were on spending sprees with his money, money from a career he literally bled for. His mother rises and walks to him.

“Adam, you wanted to sing,” she explains calmly. “It was all you wanted to do, and we wanted to find a way to make it happen. And you were talented, are talented. You sounded like an angel. And the opportunity came to make it permanent and a future for you. And it was a special future, not one that just any boy could have. We knew the procedure would be painful, but, like your father said, we thought you would forget it in time, or the memory would diminish. We had no idea you were still carrying it around, that you’ve been so unhappy, and we’re very sorry for that. We never meant that for you.”

Tears fall to his cheeks. “People are really cruel, Mom,” he whispers. “I didn’t like anybody. I didn’t think they liked me. And the other castrati, we were always in competition with each other. I never had any real friends or relationships.”

She embraces him without a thought as to how he might react. “We never intended that for your life. We wanted to preserve your talent, and we thought that’s what we were doing. I’m so sorry. If I’d known that was what you thought, that we mutilated you and then sold you... I wish I’d known. No wonder you’ve been so angry. Who could blame you?”

He clings to her, tears flowing freely, and he can feel all the years of grievance lifting off him. It’s a relief.

“The way it all happened was bad judgement on our part,” his father says. “One we can’t make up for. But we hope you can forgive us one day. We didn’t foresee the pain you would carry with you. If we’d had any inkling of that, we wouldn’t have gone through with it.”

Adam believes his father, which surprises him. Maybe he needed this confrontation with his parents. Maybe he wants to have peace with it all. Maybe Tommy’s right. His years of anger and contempt for his parents have been exhausting, as well as fruitless. Perhaps it’s time to let go. He pulls back from his mother, looking to his father.

“But my career is over now,” he says.

He tells them of the pope’s decision, which they already knew. He gives them the briefest run down of Michel’s assault, leaving out the sordid details.

“Well it’s a good thing we saved that money,” his father says. “I’m very sorry about all of this, I truly am, son, but you’ve got a cushion while you figure out your next move.”

“I’m so glad we got to hear you sing on stage,” his mother says, looking back at his father who nods. “Before all this happened.”

“You heard me sing?” Adam asks. “You came to my performances?”

“Of course,” she says. “All the ones nearby. We couldn’t travel as far as you went, but the ones we could make it to, we were there. And it was just an honor to hear you, and the way the audiences applauded you. We were so proud.”

Adam is stunned. He had no clue they’d been to any of his performances. They’d never stayed after, never indicated that they’d been there. Then again, he’d never given them a reason to stay and find him.

“You look shocked,” she says.

“I guess I am,” he replies. “I didn’t know.”

“We’re your parents,” his father says. “Of course we came.”

               

Adam sits and talks with his parents for several hours. It’s exhilarating for him. He feels he has a family again. They close the gap somewhat in all the years lost, and by the time they decide to call it a night, Adam is exhausted. As he climbs the stairs he feels a peace settle over him. Finally. He opens the bedroom door and sees Tommy sitting up in bed, asleep, the theater paper spread out in his lap. Adam smiles and gazes at him. How is it this little blond blew his way into Adam’s life, becoming the most important part of it and his biggest fan? How did he become the most steadfast part of Adam? How does Tommy know him better than he even knows himself?

He sits on the bed, careful not to wake Tommy, and takes the paper from his lap. He looks at it. America. A new adventure, a new life. It’s tempting, could be interesting. And they know at least one person there already. And thanks to his parents they have the money to go. He folds the paper and sets it aside. He grabs Tommy gently by the waist and pulls him to a lying position, and covers him. When he climbs in next to him, Tommy wakes enough to move closer into Adam, snuggling his face to his neck. His breath against Adam’s neck is warm, soothing, and Adam holds him tight. They’ll go to America and they’ll make a name for themselves there. As long as they’re together, nothing is impossible.

 

_If you were gone, for even a day I wouldn’t know which way to turn, ‘cause I’m lost without you.... You’re the only thing in this world I would die without._

 

They’ve been America for six months. Tommy was excited and nervous coming here. He’d never been on a ship before and the excitement plus nerves plus the sway of the boat made him sick the first night. He’d thrown up right after dinner and didn’t stop until Adam gave him hot tea, then lay down with him. He had Tommy hold onto to him and focus on Adam being a still point, an anchor. His stomach calmed down, and by morning he was well again and handled the rest of the trip like he’d been at sea all his life.

Sutan met them at the pier in New York. Tommy and Adam stayed with him for a while, then found their own place. Sutan had jobs for them in a local theater City Stage. Suddenly Tommy didn’t feel good enough. What if they didn’t belong here? They were a big deal in Europe, well Adam was, but this wasn’t Europe. The theater crew greeted them warmly, showing them how things were run, what they were currently working on, and asked them to jump right in with ideas and thoughts. The warm reception settled Tommy and he could see a measure of relief in Adam’s eyes, too.          

Their first performance was three weeks later. Tommy was seated on the stage towards the back with his guitar. He highlighted cues, accentuated steps, and played music for the singers. He’d never been on stage before and he was fine during rehearsals as long as there wasn’t anyone in the audience. Adam was completely at home there, of course. They’d practiced endless hours and Tommy was confident that he could play all his cues and songs in his sleep. But he’d never played on stage in front of a live audience, and his fear got the better of him. He missed Adam’s first cue, came in with it a little late, and Tommy was mortified. Adam, however, turned the missed cue into comical error on his own part, and the audience appreciated it, laughing and applauding. Tommy laughed nervously, but he was worried that Adam was really angry and just playing it off. Adam had been performing a lot longer than Tommy and he was used to higher quality musicians. Knowing how picky castrati can be, particularly this one, Tommy didn’t want to face his sharp tongue. When the show was over and they returned to their dressing room, he decided to plead for forgiveness before Adam could blow up at him.

“I know I missed that cue,” he said, turning to Adam. “I was nervous, I know that’s not an excuse. I apologize, it’ll never happen again, I swear.”

Adam stared at him, locked the door, and walked calmly to him. He crowded Tommy against the make up table.

“Yes, that was naughty,” he told Tommy. “Naughty, naughty kitty. Now get those pants off.”

The change in Adam had been astounding. He smiled more, laughed loudly, and was openly affectionate with Tommy. Adam’s stress levels changed dramatically and he was more lighthearted. He enjoyed theater, had wonderful ideas, and turned out to be, not to Tommy’s surprise, and amazing actor. He could handle any scene, make it his own and shine. They both developed a small fan base, which was exciting for Tommy. He’d never really had fans before. He wasn’t really sure what to do with them at first, but eventually got the hang of greeting them after shows and signing programs. Adam seemed to enjoy this fan base more than the one he had in opera. They treated Adam and Tommy both as people and not objects to be bought and shown off for status.

A few months after arriving in America, Adam visited a special physician. Someone Sutan had told him about. The doctor gave him something called testosterone. It would give back the hormone lost when Adam was castrated. Tommy was apprehensive about the risks, even asked Adam to write to Dr Norhaven and see how safe it was, but Adam insisted it was perfectly fine. Tommy wrote to the doctor anyway. When Adam got the okay from Norhaven, he started taking it. Tommy didn’t realize everything testosterone was responsible for in a body. Adam’s voice changed, became sexier, and for a while every time he opened his mouth Tommy got a little hard. It enhanced his singing, taking it to a different level, becoming more intense and silky, which drove the audiences wild. He grew fine, soft hair on his chest and groin, and Tommy couldn’t run his hands through it enough. When it started growing on his face, Adam spent hours looking at himself in the mirror, figuring out what make up and expressions would look best with it. The hormone also raised his sex drive, and he was after Tommy every night often more than once. His favorite thing became licking and sucking Tommy’s balls and making Tommy describe in detail what it felt like and how hard it made him. During one such night, Adam tried something new and slipped his tongue behind Tommy’s balls and into his ass, and Tommy nearly came undone right then. Frankly, Tommy’s delighted with Adam’s new testosterone levels, even though he gets less sleep now.

With Adam more relaxed, Tommy’s more hopeful for their future. This move has been the best thing for them both in his opinion. Durante has come for a visit and to see their show, which he crows about over dinner. When there’s a break in conversation, Adam asks about the castrati in opera.

“It’s as we expected,” Durante says. “More women are being cast in those roles. There are fewer and fewer castrati left performing. Many have moved on. A lot have gone into the church choirs.”

Adam is silent, staring at his drink. Moving from opera to a choir is a step down for a castrato. It means he is for all intents and purposes finished in opera, and they never return to it.

“The end of an era,” he says sadly. “It was all for nothing.”

“I wouldn’t say for nothing,” Durante says, laying a hand on Adam’s. “Had it not been for that era, you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t have the wisdom and training that you do. You almost certainly wouldn’t have found Tommy, who, I must say, has kept you grounded.”

Hearing his name, Tommy looks up, his mouth full of food, at Adam and Durante staring affectionately at him.

“So it’s all about you,” Adam teases, his smile returning.

Tommy swallows and points his fork at Adam. “It’s about time you realize that.”

Adam and Durante laugh and the serious tone is broken. They finish dinner and go back to the apartment for drinks. After Durante goes back to his hotel, Tommy sits down to write. He hums to himself as he writes the lyrics popping into his head. He imagines how Adam’s voice will sound with them and writes notes accordingly. Adam’s prone to changing the patterns on a whim, so Tommy compensates when he writes the music, leaving it flexible enough for Adam to change how and when he wishes. Since he’s no longer writing for opera, he can experiment with lyrics and notes as much as he wants. They both can. He finishes what he’s writing and puts it away. He straightens up the rest of the writing desk, noticing a page of lyrics that are not written in his hand. He picks it up and reads it. Arms slide around his waist, and Adam’s voice croons in his ear.

“I had a vision that the colors had bled away, and I had nothing to follow. Was in a prison and my life was stuck on replay, and all my wishes were hollow. You were a beam of light, lit up my broken sky. There was just something about you. I had a vision and you painted the world for me, and now I’m laying beside you.” He turns Tommy around to look directly at him, continuing. “I don’t need to wander anymore. I have found what I’ve been looking for. I don’t need a map to know the way. I don’t need a map to tell me where I’m at.”

The inflections he uses take Tommy’s breath away. Adam wrote this to him. Tommy’s heart is pounding with a flood of emotions. He can’t speak, so he hugs Adam close, burying his face in his shoulder. Adam keeps singing to him, swaying with the lyrics.

“Now I believe in more than I can see, now I can breathe again, and I don’t need a map to know the way. I don’t need a map, you’ll always light the path.”           

The words, the intention, the love slam into Tommy and he can’t stop his tears. They’re happy tears. He can’t believe how far they’ve come, how much they’ve been through. He never imagined they would be where they are, or as strong as strong as they’ve become. Every moment with Adam, good or bad, he wouldn’t change, he wouldn’t trade. It’s all worth it. And so is every moment to come.

 

finito~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it was worth the wait. :) So I have a little ache in my heart now this done. I wish I could make these two go on and on, but it's time to let go. Those who stuck with it and Send Me An Angel, thank you! I can't tell you how much that means to me. <3

**Author's Note:**

> PS - I have NO idea where this is all going. Just so you know.. ;)  
> Also, composers obviously didn't write pop songs, but I wanted to tie in Adam's real songs this time.


End file.
